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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24983959">the in-betweens</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/derekmaliknurse/pseuds/derekmaliknurse'>derekmaliknurse</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Found Families, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Minor Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Parvati Patil/Daphne Greengrass, Minor Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas, Roommates</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:14:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>42,759</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24983959</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/derekmaliknurse/pseuds/derekmaliknurse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A tale of inter-house unity, Dirty Dancing, the various charms of certain Gryffindors and the Slytherins who fall for them, and Celestina Warbeck, in which Harry James Potter shares a room with one Draco Malfoy and despite seven years of past seething hatred, has the time of his life.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>70</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>408</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the in-betweens</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>and they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates)<br/>some things to be clear on: trans lives matter and i hope we can all agree that however we feel about harry potter, it was written by a transphobe and a racist, homophobic bonafide really shitty person!! who is not moved by basic human decency or logical reasoning. and if you don’t agree that trans people exist and should be able to live their goddamn lives in peace, well then, honestly please exit out of this and have a terrible day.<br/>speaking of, this is self-indulgent and there are too many dirty dancing references and i hope it makes you laugh. the title of this fic is from young blood by the naked and famous. i also made a playlist for this fic <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/61tNTnPYnRZdZOjimbWSOk">here</a> but just be aware that it is half the dirty dancing soundtrack, and that teenage dream by katy perry is on there unironically. half-unironically.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time Harry saw Draco Malfoy after the war he dropped his trunk on Ron’s foot amidst the usual rush at King’s Cross: bright-eyed children and their parents anxiously tugging them closer, hurrying towards the Hogwarts Express, the screech of owls and the faint whispers of people pointing to him and saying <em>that’s him, that’s Harry Potter. </em></p><p>“I didn’t know he was coming back,” Harry said, staring.</p><p>Malfoy was standing with his mother, his father absent, stiff and pale, dark circles under his eyes visible from where Harry was standing. He – he was wearing Muggle clothing. Jeans, and a jumper that looks a bit big on him, but it was a nice colour, Harry thought absently. He didn’t know Malfoy even knew how to put Muggle clothing on, and he couldn’t see any other Slytherins near Malfoy. He did not see Pansy Parkinson, or Goyle.</p><p>Malfoy looked up and caught his eye, and looked away sharply.</p><p>Ron was hopping up and down on one foot and cursing his name, and Ginny and the rest were laughing over something Luna’d said, but Hermione, pausing in the middle of consoling Ron, looked up. “Well, I suppose he’s got no chance of succeeding without N.E.W.T.S, does he, especially now?” she said, and beneath her words was the bewildered implication: <em>but why on earth should you care, Harry? </em></p><p>He didn’t. Care, that is.</p><p>Harry tore his gaze away. “Sorry, mate,” he told Ron, and smothered a grin. “Want to punch me to make things even?”</p><p>Hermione tutted disapprovingly, but she was having a tough job suppressing her own smile.</p><p>“Think I’ll survive,” Ron said. He either missed the Malfoy conversation, or he’s not mentioning it, which was probably a good thing. Not that it mattered, all that much.</p><p>Harry hadn’t thought about it, Malfoy or any of the other Slytherins coming back. He hadn’t thought much about coming back himself. He hadn’t thought about what it would be like, this King’s Cross station, bustling and suffocating, contrasted with the one he’d been in when he’d died, empty and – not peaceful. But something like it.</p><p>“C’mon,” Harry murmured, lifting up his trunk and going over to the others, because he didn’t think he could stand to be here. “Let’s find a compartment.”</p><p>They didn’t find a compartment, because then everyone started rushing towards Harry, asking for his autograph and thanking him and wondering if he’s single and trying to touch him. Hermione cast a spell to keep them back with a furious look in her eyes and Ron said loudly, “I think he went that way!” while Luna started talking earnestly about Heliopaths so Harry could manage to slip on the Invisibility Cloak. A bit of a mistake not to have kept it on, really, but Hermione had said he was supposed to not have to hide anymore.</p><p>It wasn’t easy to leave them behind. Everyone wanted to talk to Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville almost as much as they wanted to talk to Harry. He felt sick. He wondered why he bothered to come back, but he knew the answer – he had no idea what else to do.</p><p>He followed everyone on the train and into a compartment when they managed to shake them off, where they all squished together and cast a locking charm on the door. Hermione and Ron’s hands were clasped, Neville had a set look to his jaw, Ginny’s chin was tilted up, and Seamus had a tight and vice-like grip on Dean’s arm, but Luna was humming noncommittally and they were all putting on a fine show of being okay otherwise. They were okay, most of them, or they were going to be. Harry, on the other hand – he didn’t know.</p><p>They kept the curtains in the compartment closed. There were crowds of people trying to catch a glimpse of Harry, reporters from the <em>Daily Prophet</em> and what Harry was embarrassed to note as several mums of his classmates.</p><p>He thought, distractedly, as the train sped up and the eight of them murmured to each other and started playing Exploding Snap, that his glimpse of Malfoy on the train platform hadn’t been the first time he’d seen Malfoy after the war at all. That had been the trial, where Harry had testified for both him and Narcissa and Malfoy, and against Lucius. Somehow Harry couldn’t count that, really, because Malfoy had not looked like himself at all and he had not looked at Harry once. Harry hadn’t thought about Malfoy since then at all. He had testified because he’d thought it was the right thing to do, what he was supposed to do, or what the person he wanted to be was supposed to do, and he had just wanted to be finished with all of it.</p><p>Ginny nudged his shoulder and he leaned in to play with the rest, her long red hair brushing up against his arm.</p><p>They were supposed to have gotten back together. Harry thought everyone else was waiting for it – he’d been waiting for it. Well, he’d actually been half-sure that he’d end up dying, for good, and that he’d never get to kiss Ginny again. He hadn’t thought about what would happen if they won, and then they had been awkward and tip-toeing around each other all of the past year, sick with grief and something else they didn’t have the words to name. There were trials to testify at, funerals to attend every day, Snatchers and Death Eaters to round up, prisoners to free, and Harry and Ginny hadn’t had the chance to learn if they still fit together. He wondered if they ever had.</p><p>They hadn’t gotten back together at all. They’d fallen apart instead. Ginny had said, close to tears, that he didn’t talk to her, that she didn’t think they even knew each other at all, and Harry couldn’t say she was wrong. Because he loved Ginny, but he had held on to her like a prize he could win back, and he had wanted her because it meant he would have a real family. And – he said this only once, because he knew how furious she would get – she had always wanted a hero, The Boy Who Lived, the boy who tore her nightmares to shreds with a sword in The Chamber of Secrets. That had been their worst row, violent enough that Ron and Hermione had to pull them apart. They made up soon enough and agreed to break up for good – sometimes things were just a bit tense.</p><p>But right now, it was easy enough to play with her and laugh when Seamus lost spectacularly, and share Chocolate Frogs with Ron like they were eleven years old again.</p><p>────────────</p><p>Being back at Hogwarts, he supposed, was meant to be strange or hard or wondrous or <em>something</em>. It mostly just felt like everything had felt, lately, like nothing. The Sorting went by like it always had, and so did the feast. But when Hagrid waved over to him, and gave him a crushing hug, he felt like he was back home. That meant something, at least.</p><p>His old home, in a state of disrepair even after the long months spent repairing the castle, was not going to be the same again. There were still holes from hexes and empty spaces at every house table. Then there were all the crowds of people trying to get a good look at him as he stepped out of his carriage, which shouldn’t have been something new, but the reverence and the way they spoke his <em>name</em>...it was different. And knowing that Malfoy was somewhere in the crowd made him flush and hear Malfoy’s cold, scornful voice drawling out, “<em>Famous</em> Harry Potter,” clear as a bell in his head like he had travelled back in time, even though he had not caught another glimpse of Malfoy at all.</p><p>At least until now: Malfoy at the Slytherin table next to a figure Harry vaguely recognised as Blaise Zabini, and a Slytherin girl who’d been in their year who he honestly did not recognise at all. There were not many other Slytherins at the table, and they all mostly looked terrified despite McGonagall’s stern speech about inter-house unity. Most of them were just kids, Harry thought. They were just children, like Teddy Lupin. They were all just kids.</p><p>He supposed Hermione or Hagrid would have said <em>he</em> was still a kid, too.</p><p>Other than that one look over at the Slytherin table, he didn’t look at Malfoy again, until all of the returning seventh years, or eighth years, he supposed, were gathered up awkwardly to follow Professor McGonagall to their dormitory.</p><p>There were only sixteen of them, the last remnants of Harry’s year. The Gryffindors, seven of them in total, outnumbered everyone else: Padma Patil, Anthony Goldstein, Terry Boot, and Lisa Turpin from Ravenclaw, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Susan Bones from Hufflepuff, and the three Slytherins. They all stayed in their respective groups, casting uneasy glances at each other.</p><p>He didn’t like the idea of not staying in the Gryffindor dormitory, and McGonagall hadn’t told them where they were staying – but if Ron and Hermione were with them it would probably be fine. They walked beside him now, following McGonagall out of the Great Hall and up the stairs, bickering amiably with their hands brushing together. Harry felt that odd stab of loneliness, or loss, and looked to his other side. Parvati Patil was next to him, long dangling hair swishing back and forth as they walked and mouth painted bright red, and her sister was behind her talking to Anthony Goldstein. She was looking around, unsettled, exactly the way Harry felt, and her hand was clenched tightly around her wand.</p><p>Lavender Brown was not coming back, he knew. She was still spending most of her time in the hospital, the rest dealing with being a werewolf, and this was the place she had been bitten.</p><p>On impulse – which was the way Harry did most things – Harry slipped his hand into Parvati’s and when she looked up at him, she smiled, a bit reluctantly.</p><p>“I didn’t want to come back,” she said. “I did it for Padma. I was going to go straight to the Aurors, but I didn’t want to leave her.”</p><p>“Me too,” Harry offered, though his stomach flipped over at the thought of the Aurors, whose letter he had still not answered. “Ron and I came for Hermione. It doesn’t – it doesn’t really feel right.”</p><p>Seamus had come for Dean, and Ginny had come for her mother’s sake. He wondered what they were all really doing here, why they were bothering, in this castle that had been their home and then been a place they’d thought they would all die in.</p><p>Parvati’s smile got a little wider, a little more relieved, and she said, “Yeah,” giving Harry’s hand a squeeze before she let go.</p><p>McGonagall came to a stop in front of a set of old, wooden doors in one of the north towers, guarded by a statue of a girl with a crown and closed eyes, and a knight with flowing hair that sat at her feet attentively. Not Sir Cadogan, Harry thought, meeting Ron’s eyes and smiling. Everyone stumbled back, not expecting McGonagall to have stopped; there were the general mutterings of, “’Scuse,” and a couple of people stepped on everyone’s toes as McGonagall turned out and squared her shoulders. Her speech was familiar and comforting, containing the words ‘respect’ and ‘inter-house unity’ again, and she smiled at them all. The look in McGonagall’s eyes was different, like she was relieved that they were all still here and like she hadn’t thought they would be, but she was the same and it was achingly comforting.</p><p>She said to the statues, “<em>Sub rosa</em>,” and the knight leaped up while the queen opened her eyes, moving to the side for everyone to pass and settling back down into their positions and becoming stationary again.</p><p>It was fairly creepy, actually, Harry thought, but Hermione looked fascinated.</p><p>Inside was a wide, airy common room with long windows and lanterns that McGonagall lit with a flick of her wand. The flames in the fireplace were dancing merrily, and there were a couple of armchairs around it, as well as couches and tables spread out with high bookshelves. There were two spiral staircases, one on the left and one on the right, both leading up to what must be the dormitories. There were no house colours. The lack of red and gold felt like another loss, even though it didn’t matter.</p><p>Harry was so busy staring around at their surroundings that he only caught the tail end of McGonagall talking, saying, “The name of the person you will share your room with will be written on each door as well as your own. Boys are up on the left staircase, and girls on the right. I expect <em>all </em>of you to be able to treat your roommate with the utmost respect, and to come to me if you have any problems.”</p><p>Harry’s heart sank, and he and Ron looked at each other with dismay. He hadn’t been able to sleep without Ron and Hermione in the room, lately. He hadn’t been able to sleep at all, really. It was one of the things he and Ginny had argued about. She had said he couldn’t sleep without them there, and Hermione couldn’t sit down unless she knew where they both were, and, “Ron has this fucking guilt complex about leaving you two alone for more than an hour, and where does that leave me?” Harry hadn’t been able to answer her.</p><p>Maybe he was rooming with Ron. He could hope, at least. Neville, Dean, or Seamus, or one of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs would be fine too, but – Harry’s stomach flipped. It wasn’t going to be – McGonagall wouldn’t –</p><p>Oh yes she would, he thought next, grimly, and he couldn’t stop thinking about it as they said goodbye to Hermione and went up their stairs. There was a long corridor that stretched out, three rooms on one side and two on the other, each with a door and names written on the door.</p><p>The first door said <em>Dean Thomas and Blaise Zabini </em>in curling, bright gold letters. Harry registered Seamus’s disappointment and his own relief, said good night to Dean, and went on. Neville and Justin Finch-Fletchley, Seamus and Terry Boot. Then there was only Harry, Ron, Anthony Goldstein, and Malfoy left.</p><p>Harry was beginning to despair. He couldn’t see McGonagall letting him and Ron share a room when all the other pairings so far had been two people from different houses, the idea of Ron sharing a room with Malfoy was disastrous, and the idea of him sharing a room with Malfoy was even worse. It was unfathomable. He stuck close to Ron, and they kept walking. The second-to last door said – Harry squeezed his eyes tightly shut and opened them – <em>Ron Weasley and Anthony Goldstein</em>. The next door said, in that same golden, curling script: <em>Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. </em></p><p>It was like a punch to the gut. Harry stared at the door. He thought there was a buzzing in his ears. He did not dare look in Malfoy’s direction.</p><p>They stood in silence for a moment. Anthony Goldstein looked incredibly awkward.</p><p>Ron seemed at once aghast and like he was trying incredibly hard not to laugh. “Sorry, mate,” he said, clapping a hand to Harry’s shoulder commiseratingly. Harry waited for Malfoy to icily protest that he was <em>right there</em>, and it was <em>him</em> that would be suffering. He didn’t.</p><p>“I’ll just meet you in there, shall I,” said Anthony Goldstein uncomfortably, and he opened his and Ron’s door, slipping inside.</p><p>“You’ll be alright?” Ron said, turning to Harry, his freckled face dear and reassuring.</p><p><em>No, </em>Harry wanted to say pathetically, <em>please don’t leave me. </em></p><p>He felt incredibly conscious of Malfoy standing <em>right </em>there.</p><p>Ron lowered his voice. “Harry, you know that if you need me, if anything – ”</p><p>“I know,” Harry said, because he did. “I’ll be alright. I – it’s fine. See you tomorrow.”</p><p>Ron looked far from convinced. His eyes flitted from Harry to Malfoy and he stood up straighter, opened his mouth like he was about to say something, so Harry pushed him inside his room and said, “Good night.”</p><p>The door shut behind him. Harry was now alone in the corridor with Draco bloody Malfoy.</p><p>He did not have enough energy to hate Draco bloody Malfoy, even though he could remember hating Malfoy more than anything, hating Malfoy so much it kept him up at night, hating Malfoy so much he let them provoke each other, just so he could satisfy that particular urge to punch him in the face. He could not bring himself to do it now. He supposed there was a reason he had saved Malfoy’s life three times in the past year, but it felt incredibly like he was paying for that now.</p><p>Harry chanced half a glance at Malfoy. He was even paler than usual, sickly-looking and withdrawn. He was not looking at Harry. Both of them moved over to their door, but neither of them opened it.</p><p><em>For Merlin’s sake</em>, Harry thought irritably, <em>I’ve killed a basilisk, faced a dragon, gone on the world’s worst camping trip, killed Voldemort, and been to over two dozen funerals this year, and I can’t open a door? </em>This was nothing. He wasn’t fifteen anymore, burning with rage and being constantly aware of Malfoy’s sneer everywhere he went, and he wasn’t sixteen anymore, brimming with convictions over Malfoy’s guilt and following Malfoy wherever he went. He could deal with this.</p><p>Harry swallowed and reached for the door at the same time Malfoy did; their hands brushed, Malfoy’s cold and soft, and Harry jumped back.</p><p>Malfoy muttered something that was probably rude, under his breath and opened the door, stepping inside before Harry could. Harry scowled and followed him in. He tried not to feel like the sound of the door closing behind him was the sound of his casket lid slamming shut.</p><p>The room was comfortably big, high ceilings and white walls, a pale blue carpet under his feet over wooden floorboards. There were two beds against either wall, an empty bookshelf in between them, a long and wide settee under a window that looked out to the comforting sight below of the grounds, and a door on the right that Harry assumed led to a bathroom.</p><p>Malfoy had gone over to the bed with his trunk. He was hesitating. Harry waited, almost holding his breath. He wondered if he should say something, but before he could, Malfoy took a deep breath and turned around.</p><p>As soon as he met Harry’s eyes he flinched like he wanted to look away but he stood firm. The first thing Draco Malfoy said to Harry in a year was a polite, “Would you like to use the bathroom first?”</p><p>“Oh,” Harry said, his heart beating faster for some inane reason. “Er, you can, I don’t mind.”</p><p>He’d actually been looking forward to simply collapsing in his bed, but now that Malfoy had to be all hygienic and proper, he reflected bitterly, he definitely couldn’t do that. So he went over to his bed and sat down heavily as Malfoy gathered his belongings and opened the door to the right. Harry had a bit of a headache. He could not believe this was really happening to him.</p><p>Harry had thought faintly that Malfoy might have been the kind of wizard that used cleaning charms instead of doing things the Muggle way, or what Harry thought personally of as the normal way, but when he came out of the bathroom, a pleasant smell of mint toothpaste and the scent of vanilla followed him, and he was wearing pyjamas. It was absolutely ridiculous to see Malfoy in pyjamas, even though they looked like expensive silk. It was absolutely ridiculous to see Malfoy’s bare, white feet as he set his shoes neatly down by his bed. It was absolutely ridiculous that Harry had to get up and follow him, and that they brushed shoulders as they passed and did not start a fight.</p><p>Inside the bathroom, where it smelled like vanilla, Harry swept cold water over his face and tried to think. McGonagall had trusted him to be able to do this. So he was going to do this. It was almost soothing, to be able to have a task to focus on again. <em>Don’t fight with Draco Malfoy. </em>It was almost as hard as <em>find all the missing pieces of Voldemort’s soul and destroy them so that you can destroy Voldemort himself. </em></p><p>“Easy,” Harry said aloud and the mirror remarked saucily back, “How long are you going to keep staring at yourself?”</p><p>He came out of the bathroom in flannel pyjama bottoms that had belonged to Dudley when he was eleven and only remotely fit Harry now, and a Holyhead Harpies T-shirt that Ginny had bought him. Thinking of Ginny didn’t make things any easier, but at least Malfoy had already gotten into bed and wasn’t looking at him. Harry tried not to look at him either, and made his way over to his bed.</p><p>He didn’t expect sleep to come, with Malfoy in the room, but he could hear Ron’s snores from next door and the faint sound of Neville’s from across the hallway, and it had begun to rain outside. He could hear the light patter of the rain even though the window was closed, and he felt his eyes drop.</p><p>He had only two nightmares, which was better than usual. One of them was Dumbledore’s body falling off the Astronomy Tower, which turned into Fred, which turned into Lupin, which turned into Tonks, and he rushed down to catch them but they were gone before they hit the ground.</p><p>In the other one Draco Malfoy was dying: in a bathroom, in fire, in a battle, in a cell, and each time Harry could not save him.</p><p>The first one he’d had so many times he didn’t wake up, only made distressed noises in his sleep that he hoped Malfoy couldn’t hear. The other one made him bolt up, sweaty and out of breath, brown limbs tangled all up in white sheets. He looked over at Malfoy’s bed, where he could still see Malfoy’s bright hair against his pillow, and then he fell back in bed.</p><p>The next time he woke up was to the sound of birdsong and the morning sunlight casting a glow across the room. He looked, again, at Malfoy’s bed. Malfoy was sitting up too, his pale hair sticking up and falling over his eyes.</p><p>Malfoy saw him and turned pink. “Sorry,” he said, and then turned pinker.</p><p>“Sorry?” Harry echoed, bemused, but Malfoy slipped out of bed, grabbed his robes, and went into the bathroom before Harry could say anything else. He was alarmingly quick. It was like he was trying to make sure he and Harry weren’t alone together for longer than a few seconds. This was not what Harry had expected in any way shape or form, if he had expected this at all, which he hadn’t.</p><p>He waited until Malfoy came out of the bathroom, like he was going to – what? Corner him? Ask him why he was being polite? It sounded ridiculous even in Harry’s head, and anyway, when Harry came out after changing into his robes, Malfoy was already gone.</p><p>He went downstairs, but no one else seemed to be awake. He wanted to say <em>aha!</em> and find Malfoy but Malfoy had already disappeared, presumably gone down for breakfast. Disappointed, but resolved not to give Ron and Hermione anything to exchange meaningful looks about, Harry waited a bit for them to come down, and they did soon enough, one after the other, probably because they’d been worried about him.</p><p>“You and <em>Malfoy</em>?” Hermione said weakly when he told her, covering her mouth with her hands. “Well, that’s – ”</p><p>“A disaster?” Ron offered when he reached them, grinning. “Probably the tamest word for it. How was it? Did you try to murder each other in your sleep?”</p><p>“Ron,” said Hermione reprovingly. “You know, Harry, I’m sure Professor McGonagall would understand that you’d feel more comfortable with Ron – ”</p><p>“Anthony probably wouldn’t mind switching,” Ron agreed. “He hasn’t got much history with Malfoy. No one would even notice, it’s not like McGonagall would find out.”</p><p>“<em>Ron</em>,” Hermione admonished. “I’m sure there’s a reason McGonagall’s put us all together in different pairings.”</p><p>“Yeah,” said Ron, “but I dunno what she was thinking putting Harry with Malfoy. Doesn’t seem like it’ll end well.”</p><p>“It’s fine,” Harry said, embarrassed. “It was just – normal. We didn’t even talk to each other. Who are you rooming with, Hermione?”</p><p>“Oh, Padma Patil,” Hermione said, “and her sister is rooming with Daphne Greengrass – ”</p><p>“That Slytherin girl?” Ron asked, and Harry remembered the girl at the Slytherin table yesterday, all golden hair and stately blue eyes, examining her manicure.</p><p>“Yes, but she went to France for the war,” Hermione said. “Lots of Slytherins stayed out of it, actually, like Zabini – ”</p><p>“Pretty spineless if you ask me,” Ron said.</p><p>“Well yes, there’s no denying that, but she seems fine,” said Hermione. “A little full of herself and dignified, maybe, but she and Parvati don’t seem to have any problems. And Susan Bones is with Lisa Turpin.”</p><p>“Never talked to her,” Ron noted.</p><p>“She seems alright. I don’t think I’ll mind sharing with Padma, really.”</p><p>“Yeah, Anthony’s a good bloke, too. Still, don’t you wish you were sharing with me instead?” Ron said, grinning and pulling her in for a kiss.</p><p>Hermione smiled at him. “I only feel bad for Harry. Of <em>all</em> the people to get stuck with!”</p><p>Harry felt a bit uncomfortable, even though he’d been thinking practically the exact same thing yesterday. He just kept thinking of Malfoy’s pointed and bare feet, and his cloud of hair sticking up in the morning.</p><p>“I bet you’ll both last three days,” Ron told him, and Hermione said, “A <em>week</em> at least,” and Harry told them both to fuck off, he’d last the whole year. They went down to breakfast still laughing. They joined Ginny, and though it was a bit awkward with her and Harry, when they told her about Malfoy she threw her head back and laughed and laughed and laughed. Harry had always loved to watch Ginny laugh, the pale and freckled column of her throat, but he did not think they were going to get back together now or ever.</p><p>Malfoy sat at the Slytherin table with Zabini and Daphne Greengrass, the latter of whom deigned to give Hermione a nod. Malfoy did not give Harry a nod. He kept his head down, but Harry thought he looked a little better than he had yesterday.</p><p>Classes went by in a routine that Harry lost himself in. He found it hard to care much about them, and he saw that Ron, and Hermione though she tried not to, felt the same way. They had used magic in a war, relied on their wands and their wits, and now they were in a classroom, and it didn’t seem to matter much. They shared most of their classes with the rest of their year. All of them were set apart in the classes they didn’t have together, chewing on quills and tapping their feet impatiently and trying to listen but mostly falling asleep. The rest of the school steered clear of them.</p><p>He and Ron had abstained from joining the Quidditch team this year, even though it hurt, a bit, but they went out flying on weekends or free periods, to the library with Hermione to study, to Hagrid’s hut to drink tea and pretend to eat rock cakes. Sometimes they went to the Gryffindor common room after classes, which would always feel like home, where no one minded much that they stayed there, and Ginny joined them. But they went to their common room too, where the knight opened her gravelly mouth to ask for the password and the queen opened her eyes, and they moved aside so Harry, Ron, and Hermione could go inside. And inside would be the rest of their year: Terry Boot and Lisa Turpin examining the bookshelves while they humoured Anthony Goldstein talking to them at length about his latest dream, the Patil twins and Susan chatting with Dean and Seamus, Neville and Justin Finch-Fletchley talking earnestly about their Herbology N.E.W.T class, and the Slytherins in a corner together.</p><p>Against all odds, McGonagall’s inter-house unity scheme, putting four different houses together like they were one, seemed to be mostly working. Harry liked almost everyone he lived with, and he found himself playing chess with Ron and the Ravenclaws, going down to Hogsmeade with the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs to meet up with Ernie MacMillan and Hannah Abbott, helping Dean and Seamus smuggle in chocolate and Firewhiskey. McGonagall and the other teachers were so far turning a blind eye to their exploits, though Hermione still felt duty-bound to fret over it.</p><p>It was just that they had never gotten to know each other, never really had the opportunity to have fun. They had always had the shadow of war over their heads.</p><p>But Malfoy’s scheme to avoid Harry at all costs kept going for the next week.</p><p>Malfoy was, technically, on all counts, a perfect roommate. He didn’t leave his things around the room, he cleaned up after himself, he studied in the library or the common room, he never brought anyone up there. The thing was that Harry never saw him do any of this, because the only time he saw Malfoy was when they both went to bed, and sometimes he didn’t sleep in his room. Padma Patil occasionally went to her sister’s room instead, so that the other bed in Hermione’s room was empty, and he, Ron, and Hermione could push the beds together and sleep all curled up together.</p><p>The longest conversation he and Malfoy had was when Harry dug out the hawthorn wand from his trunk and gave it back to Malfoy, and all Malfoy said then was thank you. Harry did see the way his eyes had lit up, though. He was glad he’d done it.</p><p>Harry resorted to taking out the Marauder’s Map again, watching Malfoy’s dot and the way it made sure not to be in the same room as Harry for longer than necessary.</p><p>Ron and Hermione exchanged their meaningful looks at this, but they didn’t say anything, and Harry didn’t try to figure out why. He was too busy being annoyed at Malfoy. <em>He </em>could totally handle sharing a room with Malfoy. It was <em>Malfoy </em>who couldn’t handle it and was acting like Harry was –</p><p>“We get it, mate,” Ron said over dinner, when Ginny was talking to Demelza Robins. “But isn’t this what you wanted? You don’t need to deal with each other. Best case scenario, yeah?”</p><p>“I,” Harry said. “That’s not – that’s not the <em>point, </em>the point is that I can handle it. I’m handling it.”</p><p>Ron and Hermione exchanged another look. Harry slumped in his seat and rolled his eyes. Luna had left the Ravenclaw table to join them, which made things better, at least until she said, “I think Draco must be scared.”</p><p>“Of <em>me</em>?” Harry said hotly.</p><p>“Yes,” Luna said peacefully, stealing Harry’s treacle tart. “I think he’s always been a bit scared of you, although in many ways he’s one of the only people who isn’t afraid of you.” Harry let this nonsensical statement go, since it was par for the course with Luna. “I’ve seen a lot of Wrackspurts around Draco. They can make it hard for him to think, and when you’re around, it’s even harder. You should talk to him about it.”</p><p>“I’ve been trying,” Harry said, but he had lost the thread of his anger. It wasn’t quite possible to be angry at Luna, and she had, after all, been held captive in Malfoy Manor. He wasn’t going to argue with her about Malfoy.</p><p>Ginny moved closer to them and Harry dropped the subject. They had a lively discussion about Quidditch instead, and by the time Harry, Ron, and Hermione had said goodbye to Ginny and Luna and made their way to their common room, Harry was yawning. He wanted to sit on the armchairs by the fire with Ron and Hermione anyway, but Anthony Goldstein was in the library, and Ron immediately whisked Hermione away upstairs. Harry stayed down and reflected grimly that Ron’s room was right next to his, and that he hoped they used Silencing Charms. He half-heartedly joined Neville and Terry Boot’s conversation, and then when they went upstairs, he waited a few more moments and walked up to his room where, no doubt, Malfoy would already be asleep.</p><p>Ron was right, Harry thought. It was better that Malfoy was always either asleep or out of the room. What else had he expected? That they would fight over who went to the bathroom first, argue over keeping the lights on or off, windows open or closed? That they would spell each other’s hair pink in the night, spill cold water all over each other’s bed in the morning? That it would be unbearable not to bother each other? And what had <em>McGonagall</em> expected from both of them?</p><p>Harry opened the door to his room just as someone on the other side opened it, and the door slammed right in the face, as well as hitting the person on the other side in their head, sending Harry stumbling back on the floor with a hand clutched to his head.</p><p>“Ow,” Malfoy’s voice said, vaguely out of focus. “Potter?”</p><p>Harry touched his mouth and it came away red.</p><p>“Oh, Merlin,” Malfoy said, voice clearer and louder and very panicked, “Merlin and Morgana. Have you got a concussion, Potter? Let’s get you to Madam Pomfrey.”</p><p>Harry frowned, staring blearily at the ground. “Why would we go to Madam Pomfrey?”</p><p>“You can talk!” Malfoy said, as though this was an incredible accomplishment. “That means you can tell Madam Pomfrey I didn’t mean to maim you!”</p><p>Harry looked up – up, and up, Malfoy had grown a few inches taller than him and it was <em>infuriating </em>– to see Malfoy chewing on his bottom lip in his silk pyjamas with his pale hair mussed. He registered Malfoy’s words and almost laughed, but his head felt a little dizzy as he staggered up from the ground. “You didn’t <em>maim </em>me, and I’m not going to Madam Pomfrey.”</p><p>“Weasley, then,” said Malfoy. “He’s right next door.”</p><p>“He’s with Hermione,” Harry said, making a face.</p><p>Malfoy shuddered. Harry tried to feel offended but couldn’t manage it, seeing as he felt the same way.</p><p>“Alright, Madam Pomfrey it is,” Malfoy decided. And then he was making his way past Harry and closing the door. Harry frowned at the door accusingly, and then turned around to say, “No I’m fine.”</p><p>Malfoy turned around and crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “I think I may have caused extensive brain damage,” he said, “and Merlin knows you can’t handle any more of that.” His expression went pinched, then, like he’d said too much, but Harry didn’t mind. It occurred to him that he and Malfoy were having a civil conversation.</p><p>So he said, “Why do you care?” Because why <em>did</em> he, anyway, he never had before.</p><p>“Oh, Potter,” said Malfoy, sighing.</p><p>“That’s not an answer,” Harry accused.</p><p>“Follow me,” said Malfoy threateningly, “or I’ll open Weasley’s bedroom door.”</p><p>Harry blanched. “Just do a spell,” he said, pointing in the general direction of his face.</p><p>“I can’t,” Malfoy said tightly. “Terms of my probation. I’m only allowed magic for classes for six months.”</p><p>“Oh,” said Harry. He hadn’t known that. “I’ll do it, then.” He dug in the pocket of his robes for his wand, but he had only just pointed it at his face when Malfoy hissed and pulled his hand back down. Harry stared at their hands, intertwined. Malfoy let go quickly.</p><p>“Bad idea,” he said, and grabbed hold of Harry’s shoulder, bringing him down the stairs.</p><p>“I can <em>walk</em>,” Harry complained. “I’ve fought off Death Eaters with concussions. With <em>worse</em> than concussions.” He thought about the wisdom or lack thereof in saying Death Eaters in front of Malfoy, whose shoulders tensed for a moment. He added, “And Madam Pomfrey is probably asleep now.”</p><p>“It’s not even eleven yet, Potter. And I thought you said you didn’t have a concussion?”</p><p>Harry made a face again. “I don’t.”</p><p>“You’ll forgive me if I don’t take you at your word,” Malfoy said sarcastically, but he let go of Harry’s shoulder, which felt, oddly, like another loss even though it was what Harry had wanted.</p><p>“I can sleep it off,” Harry tried, following Malfoy to the door out of the common room. “Give me a napkin, I think my nose is bleeding.”</p><p>“Do you <em>hear</em> yourself?” Malfoy demanded. “Do you hear yourself <em>talk</em>? It would explain a great deal if you didn’t, actually. Maybe you’ve never <em>seen</em> yourself either.”</p><p>Harry was startled into laughing and saying, “What?” He could easily have stayed behind when Malfoy opened the door and stepped outside. He could have asked Neville, Dean, or Seamus to cast a healing spell on him; they’d all had to learn them in the war. He could knock on Ron’s door. He could sleep it off, because he was used to sleeping with pain, and this honestly didn’t even hurt that much. He followed Malfoy instead.</p><p>“It makes perfect sense,” Malfoy said, almost to himself as Harry ambled on beside him, only swaying once or twice. He didn’t think they’d walked side by side before very often. The only time he could think of was first year, detention in the Forbidden Forest, where Malfoy, ha, ran away screaming like a girl.</p><p>Harry had no idea what Malfoy was talking about, but he was talking an awful lot, which was when Harry remembered that Malfoy had gotten hit by that bastard, the door, too. <em>Malfoy </em>was probably the one with brain damage. Harry stopped and tried to examine Malfoy’s forehead.</p><p>Malfoy slapped his hand away and said, voice very high, “What are you <em>doing</em>.”</p><p>“Checking your forehead,” Harry said, like it was obvious. “You got hurt too, remember?”</p><p>“I’m not <em>bleeding</em>!” Malfoy said, and then, in a consoling voice, “It’s alright, Potter. I know you’ve got a saviour complex the size of the Quidditch pitch and your life is incomplete without feeling like you are benevolently helping the poor mortals whose company you’re forced to deal with. Madam Pomfrey will sort us both out.”</p><p>Harry tried, again, to be affronted. He was sure he would have punched Malfoy in the face for such a remark before, but instead he felt the wonderful momentary urge to laugh again. Malfoy, on the other hand, had that pinched expression again, like he’d said something he shouldn’t have said. He was muttering to himself again, saying, “Exactly the kind of situation I was trying to avoid, of <em>course </em>this is happening to me – ”</p><p>Draco Malfoy could not shut up for longer than a few minutes, Harry realised, and this was why he had made sure that he and Harry were not in the same room for longer than that.</p><p>Well, Harry thought, almost satisfied, that hadn’t lasted long.</p><p>“Malfoy,” Harry said, deciding to use the head trauma as an excuse for what he said next, “you’re really weird.”</p><p>“Oh, <em>really,</em>” said Malfoy scathingly. “I’m not interested in your opinion, Potter, thanks.”</p><p>“You’re welcome,” Harry said, unruffled and unprepared for the way Malfoy stared at him before turning away and muttering something under his breath.</p><p>“We’re going to get in trouble,” he said, looking out absently like he always did for the sound of Mrs. Norris sneaking up on them. He hadn’t even brought the Invisibility Cloak. He felt a little bare without it on him.</p><p>Malfoy gave him a scornful look. Then he looked away quickly. He said, “You’ve never cared about getting in trouble, and no one <em>is</em> going to get <em>you</em> in trouble,” which was true, and made something in Harry’s chest ache.</p><p>“Oh, honestly,” Malfoy sighed. “There’s no need to feel guilty over that, you’re hurt, you’ve got a perfectly good reason to be wandering about, idiot.”</p><p>This was possibly the nicest thing Malfoy had ever said to him.</p><p>“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Harry said.</p><p>“I wasn’t trying to be nice then. I called you an idiot. I <em>have </em>been trying to be nice for the past week,” said Malfoy stiffly.</p><p>“Well, don’t,” Harry said, before he could think better of it.</p><p>Malfoy stared at him for a moment. Harry stared back stubbornly.</p><p>“Brain-damaged,” Malfoy said eventually in a sing-song voice, and kept up a steady stream of chatter as he steered them towards the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey was closing up her office when Malfoy triumphantly dragged them in front of her.</p><p>“This is really unnecessary,” Harry said, tilting up his head so the blood wouldn’t drip on the floor.</p><p>“Don’t listen to him, he might have a concussion,” Malfoy advised her. He had turned a little paler, and shrunk down on himself, as though just waiting for Madam Pomfrey to furiously rain down on him and demand to know what had happened.</p><p>Harry frowned. “It was an accident. A door hit us,” he said. “And Malfoy’s also injured. In his head.” This was a truer statement than Madam Pomfrey would ever know. “I tried to cast a spell but he wouldn’t let me.”</p><p>Madam Pomfrey took hold of both of them and sat them down on separate beds, tutting loudly all the while. “And quite right of him too! Students messing with healing magic...You’ve both always been delicate,” she said disapprovingly, grabbing Harry’s chin and inspecting his face.</p><p>“I am not delicate,” Malfoy said crossly, at the same time that Harry did. They both exchanged startled looks with each other as Madam Pomfrey leaned over Harry and muttered, “<em>Episkey</em>,” and, “<em>Tergeo</em>.”</p><p>She turned to Malfoy, who sat, twitching like a rabbit, ready to make his escape at any moment, and murmured a spell for the bump on his head. She handed them both a potion that tasted like gurdyroots, and Harry tried not to laugh at the expression on Malfoy’s face.</p><p>“No concussion,” she announced, “for either of you. Now go straight to bed, please, and refrain from slamming into anymore doors.”</p><p>When they had started walking back to the common room, Harry cleared his throat and said, “Thanks.”</p><p>It was even weirder than he’d thought it would be, saying thank you to Malfoy.</p><p>“You’re welcome,” said Malfoy, voice posh and polite.</p><p>“Not that again,” Harry said.</p><p>“Not <em>what</em>?”</p><p>“Stop acting all – ” Harry waved a hand around vaguely. “Weird.”</p><p>“In case you haven’t noticed,” Malfoy said, “this <em>is</em> weird. I’m <em>trying</em> to be nice to you.”</p><p>“It’s weird,” Harry said, shrugging.</p><p>“Then what do you want?” Malfoy exclaimed, a little hysterically. “I’m <em>trying</em> to be a good roommate!”</p><p>“Well, don’t,” Harry said, like he had before, this time without any excuses of brain damage.</p><p>“What!” Malfoy said, and seemed unable to speak for what Harry assumed was fear of possibly hexing him.</p><p>They had reached the wooden doors and the statues. Harry said the password and they moved aside. He could have sworn the knight was laughing at him.</p><p>Once they were inside, the fire blazing and the common room empty, Malfoy said, words stumbling all out of him like he couldn’t stop himself, “I don’t understand what you want me to do. I’ve been trying this whole time – ”</p><p>“So you’re not really neat and quiet and nice?” Harry said, trying not to smile. “That’s a shocker.”</p><p>“Oh, fuck you, Potter,” Malfoy snapped, and then he pinched his eyebrows together and let out a long sigh. “So,” said Malfoy now, quieter. “So what? You want to stay up all night and braid each other’s hair? You want to be – <em>friends</em>?” The word wrenched out of Malfoy’s mouth like he hadn’t wanted to say it at all.</p><p>Harry had never wanted to be friends with Malfoy. He thought of all the reasons why, all the horrible things that Malfoy had done, the way he had got under Harry’s skin. Malfoy had sharp edges. He could be unpleasant and cruel and awful. So could Harry.</p><p>The war was over. Draco Malfoy was actually incredibly inept at being evil, as it turned out. He wore Muggle clothes and had bony feet and smelled like vanilla and had dragged Harry to the Hospital Wing, and they were living together.</p><p>“Could give it a shot,” Harry said. “Don’t think you’d be able to manage braiding my hair, though.”</p><p>“Excuse you, I am a connoisseur at braiding hair,” Malfoy said with his nose in the air. “I did it all the <em>time</em> with Pansy’s, it was brilliant, and you can ask Daphne if you don’t believe me. She never let me touch her hair, though.” Malfoy’s face went distinctly mulish. “Didn’t <em>trust </em>me. As if I’d ever want to anyway. Who’d want to braid her hair? Not me. She thought she had the best hair in Slytherin, and she and Blaise would duke it out. As though I wasn’t even an option. I have great hair.”</p><p>Malfoy was clearly experiencing some sort of mental breakdown. It was probably best to leave him to it. “You alright?” Harry asked mildly when it seemed like he was finished.</p><p>“No,” said Malfoy, and he almost looked like he wanted to laugh. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask Goldstein to switch with you or complain to McGonagall and tell her this was a horrible idea for the past week. I’ve been trying to make sure you wouldn’t have any reason to. I’ve been positively <em>Hufflepuffian</em>. I’ve been waiting. I thought it was a matter of time.”</p><p>“I’m not going to,” Harry said, watching him in the firelight, pale hair and pale face and flushed cheeks.</p><p>“And,” Malfoy went on, in hysterics, “you have some sort of problem with me being a good roommate. What exactly in your opinion should I do instead?”</p><p>Harry shrugged again. “Be yourself?”</p><p>“Myself!”</p><p>“Yeah, and I’ll be myself.”</p><p>“<em>Myself</em>,” said Malfoy, “fought on the opposite side of the war that you did, and hates you!”</p><p>“I know all that,” Harry said, with a slight edge to his voice.</p><p>“Oh, what,” Malfoy snarled, “you want to <em>save</em> me? Because you’re a hero, and that’s what you do, I suppose, to feel good about yourself, feel like there’s a reason to – ”</p><p>“No, I don’t,” Harry snarled back, “I don’t want to <em>save</em> you, you wanker, you’re insufferable!”</p><p>Malfoy’s eyes were glittering with triumph, almost like he’d gotten what he wanted. “<em>That’s </em>more like it,” he said.</p><p>“Have you – have you just been trying to make me angry this whole time?” Harry demanded.</p><p>“Have you been paying any attention at all? That’s what I’ve been trying to do for the past seven years, isn’t it?” Malfoy sounded – not bitter. Brittle. Something like that. Hermione would know the right word.</p><p>“You’re a dickhead, Malfoy,” Harry said.</p><p>“I’m well aware,” snapped Malfoy, and then, grudgingly, “Sorry. I <em>was</em> trying to avoid that, you know. But I still shouldn’t have.”</p><p>“You didn’t have to try so hard,” Harry said. “To make me angry. I’m usually angry these days.”</p><p>He waited for Malfoy to spit out something nasty about how he wasn’t surprised, but instead, Malfoy said, surprised like he couldn’t help it, “Me too.”</p><p>Harry’s mouth twitched, which was the period in time where he became aware that the rest of their housemates were creeping down the stairs to see what all the fuss was about. On the boys’ staircase, Ron and Hermione were rushing down with their clothes rumpled, Hermione’s hair sticking up in every direction, and identical expressions of concern on their faces. Blaise Zabini leaned against the banister with an expression of extreme judgement and trepidation, wearing fancy-looking pyjamas that set off his dark skin and handsome face perfectly. Neville and Justin Finch-Fletchley were absent, but Dean, Seamus, and Terry Boot were looking on with raised eyebrows. On the girls’ staircase, Parvati stood by Daphne Greengrass, who was wearing a lacy slip of a night dress that went down to her feet and had a gaping neckline; each of them had their shining hair, one dark and one light, braided back identically in a coronet. Padma Patil watched on with indifference, next to her Susan Bones and a girl with brown skin and curly, short hair who Harry assumed was Lisa Turpin.</p><p>“Uh, Harry?” Ron called out. “We heard shouting. What’s going on?”</p><p>“Are you alright?” said Hermione, while the rest of their housemates watched on in interest, most of them staring suspiciously at Malfoy while the Slytherins glared at Harry.</p><p>“Draco, what in the name of Salazar are you doing?” Zabini demanded.</p><p>“It’s okay, leave it,” Harry said to Ron and Hermione, and Zabini put his hands over his beautiful face and murmured, “I can’t watch.”</p><p>Harry could not bring himself to care. It was almost as though he and Malfoy were the only people in the common room again.</p><p>Malfoy had turned a brilliant shade of pink. “This is the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me,” he hissed. “What have you done?”</p><p>“Me?” Harry repeated indignantly. “You’re the one who was shouting!”</p><p>“Oh, for goodness sake,” said Malfoy in a low voice. “All that and you’re not going to leave? Your adoring fans are here, Potter, they’re waiting for you to leave so they can skin me alive and present me as a trophy to stick on your wall!”</p><p>“What <em>are</em> you on about,” Harry said incredulously. “And no, I’m not leaving. Not unless you want me to.”</p><p>Malfoy’s face did something strange. He looked at Harry carefully, and said abruptly, “Alright.”</p><p>“Draco?” Daphne Greengrass said uncertainly.</p><p>“Alright?” Harry repeated.</p><p>“Alright,” Malfoy said again, with a raised eyebrow. “I agree to your harebrained and ridiculous idea.”</p><p>“It’s not harebrained and ridiculous and who even says the word harebrained,” Harry said, and extended out his hand.</p><p>There was a stifled noise from one of the staircases. Malfoy stared at Harry’s hand blankly.</p><p>“Er, shake on it?” Harry said, faltering, not sure what he’d done.</p><p>There was an unreadable look in Malfoy’s eyes. Harry’s fingers twitched.</p><p>Malfoy took his hand.</p><p>The door opened noisily: Anthony Goldstein stumbled into the common room with his school bag slung across his shoulder. “Fell asleep in the library and Madam Pince chased me out with a feather duster, then Peeves tried dropping a water balloon on my head,” he announced to the room at large, looking around at everyone gathered in a semicircle on the staircases around Harry and Malfoy. “Er, what have you all been up to then?”</p><p>────────────</p><p>Things progressed from there.</p><p>Greengrass and Zabini immediately rushed over to Malfoy, giving Harry incredulous looks as he backed away, and let go of Malfoy’s hand. Harry thought distantly as he went over to Ron and Hermione that Malfoy had never hung around with Daphne and Zabini much, before, but that they were all sticking together now. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs had all gone back to their rooms, Terry Boot leading a puzzled-looking Anthony Goldstein upstairs. Dean and Seamus hovered by Ron and Hermione; Seamus was trying not to laugh and failing.</p><p>“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” Harry said, over and over again in response to Ron and Hermione’s questions, “it’s nothing. Really.”</p><p>They did not look convinced in the slightest, but when Dean stifled a yawn, Seamus dragged him upstairs, shooting a dirty look at Zabini. Harry wasn’t sure why, other than that Zabini was sharing a room with Dean, but he was too tired to try and figure it out. He waved off Ron and Hermione’s concern, and went up to bed with Ron. With a last strange look at Harry, Hermione bid them good night and went upstairs with Daphne Greengrass. He thought that Zabini and Malfoy were still downstairs, but when he and Ron reached their dorms, he heard the sound of them following their footsteps.</p><p>“Harry,” Ron started.</p><p>“I’m fine,” said Harry, exasperated. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”</p><p>Ron hesitated, and then nodded, disappearing into his and Anthony’s room with a <em>good night, then, mate. </em></p><p>Harry went inside his room, navigating around the door carefully and closing it behind him. He tossed his robes on the bed and thought about changing out of the t-shirt and jeans beneath, but couldn’t be arsed. He lied down on the settee with his legs spread out, dangling over the end, and his head resting on the sofa the other way, by the open window. He listened to the chill of the wind rustling the leaves of the trees below. He thought about Draco Malfoy, and Draco Malfoy opened the door to their room.</p><p>Harry sat up.</p><p>“Er,” he said, and Malfoy said, “Hello,” and they both looked determinedly at the floor.</p><p>Harry half-expected Malfoy to bypass Harry, go straight to the bathroom to complete his vanilla-smelling night routine, and go to bed. He thought about that, the scent of vanilla that followed Malfoy every night they went to sleep. Was it perfume that Malfoy used? A spell? Harry couldn’t figure it out. He was so busy thinking about Malfoy’s perfume that he didn’t notice when Malfoy sat down until he felt the warmth of Malfoy settling next to him, and heard his careful breathing.</p><p>“I know what you meant down there,” Malfoy said finally. “All this – all of last year – and it’s not that important, anymore, is it. I don’t know how to go back to what we were like before. You saved my life.”</p><p>“Well,” Harry said. “You saved mine, so.”</p><p>Malfoy huffed out a quiet laugh. “You know, I swore a solemn oath to never break our mutual enmity in first year. I had Pansy, Greg, and – ” His voice stumbled. “And, and Crabbe, witness it. On pain of bloody, merciless death.”</p><p>“Really?” said Harry, amused.</p><p>“I was a special child.”</p><p>“That’s one word for it.”</p><p>“I suppose you never did that.”</p><p>“Well, I never swore not to be friends with you,” Harry admitted. “I did think of you as my archenemy in second year, if that makes you feel better.”</p><p>Malfoy looked touched. “That means a lot, Potter, especially considering my competition.”</p><p>Harry assumed his competition was Voldemort. This was further proof that Malfoy was actually incredibly mad.</p><p>“But I can’t be bothered to hate you now,” Harry said. “Not anymore.”</p><p>“Why?” Malfoy asked, quiet.</p><p>“I’ve won,” Harry said. “It’s done. I haven’t – haven’t really got anything to lose anymore.”</p><p>“Oh, <em>that’s</em> heartening,” Malfoy said, disgruntled, “you don’t hate me anymore because you’re <em>tired </em>of it. Anyways, you’ve got lots to lose, you giant lump, what are you <em>talking</em> about?”</p><p>Harry laughed and yawned, and lied back down. He let Malfoy rant on about how rude it was of Harry to just forget their hatred, did he have any consideration at all, et cetera, et cetera.</p><p>Because Harry was sleep-deprived and Malfoy never stopped chattering, he let himself think about how he’d always thought he and Draco Malfoy would be enemies. It had been a constant in his life, something to count on, something to be sure of. He thought he could understand the undertone behind Malfoy’s words, which were probably mostly jokes.</p><p>“What happened to your hatred, Potter,” Malfoy said mournfully. “Where has it gone? What has happened to your violent urges to punch me repeatedly until I’m bleeding?”</p><p>“What is wrong with you,” said Harry absently.</p><p>“Don’t you <em>care</em>,” Malfoy demanded, poking him in the shoulder. He looked serious all of a sudden. “The things I did. Don’t you care?”</p><p>“I do care,” Harry mumbled through a yawn. “Do you?”</p><p>Malfoy was silent for a moment. “Yes.”</p><p>“Then,” said Harry drowsily, letting his eyes drift closed, “it’s alright.”</p><p>“That makes no sense at all, Potter.”</p><p>Harry ignored him. He let his breathing even out, head resting against the seat of the settee with his legs spread out, and the sound below of the wind, the sound next to him of Malfoy’s breathing. He thought he should feel weird. He should go into his perfectly comfortable bed, which was a small distance away. He should tell Malfoy to move. He shouldn’t be able to sleep with Malfoy next to him. But then he felt Malfoy breathe in, and lie down opposite Harry so that his head rested beside Harry’s and his legs curled up on the rest of the sette. He felt Malfoy touch his hair, gently, hesitantly; it might have been a dream, but by then he’d already fallen asleep, Malfoy’s fine hair falling on his face, even though there wasn’t enough space for both of them, really.</p><p>He did not have a nightmare.</p><p>He woke up in the morning to the birds again, his neck aching and his back stiff, and Malfoy’s hands almost touching his. He wasn’t sure what time it was.</p><p>Harry opened his eyes. Malfoy opened his eyes. They studied each other from upside down.</p><p>“Hello,” Malfoy said sleepily, looking soft and rumpled in the morning light with his hair lit up almost golden.</p><p>Harry tried not to smile but he didn’t think he quite managed it. There was something odd happening to his chest; it felt like it was about to expand, explode. He thought about how ridiculous it was to be thinking of Malfoy as, well, Malfoy, when he looked like that. He sat up carefully before he and Malfoy banged heads and had to go to Madam Pomfrey again, and sat cross-legged, stretching out his arms and rolling his neck and shoulders.</p><p>“The birds are making a racket,” Malfoy said.</p><p>“I like it,” Harry said, because it made him feel less alone, and reminded him of Shell Cottage. Malfoy muttered something about how of course he did.</p><p>Harry watched him for a little while, languid and lazy in the sunlight. “Merlin,” Malfoy said finally, sitting up and laughing sharply, “I can’t believe I actually slept there. Everything hurts now. What a disgrace. And your <em>hair</em>, honestly. Did you even brush your teeth or use a dental spell, Potter? You didn’t even <em>change</em>. Our beds are <em>right</em> <em>there</em>.” Malfoy sounded a bit hysterical, but also like it was too early to be bothered about it. “This is your fault. Your insanity is catching.”</p><p>“Oh, thanks very much,” Harry said, rolling his eyes.</p><p>“The worst part is that I think that was the best night’s sleep I’ve had all week,” Malfoy mused.</p><p>“What,” said Harry, “have you – have you not been sleeping?”</p><p>“Have I not been sleeping,” Malfoy scoffed, and avoided his eyes.</p><p>“<em>Malfoy</em>,” Harry said. “You should have told me. I can’t sleep sometimes either.”</p><p>“Why would I tell my worst enemy that I can’t sleep, Potter?” Malfoy asked in a reasonable voice. “That seems like a very strange thing to do. And I know you can’t sleep sometimes. You sneak out to go to the common room or wake up with nightmares.”</p><p>Harry rolled his eyes again.</p><p>“I thought about, you know,” said Malfoy. “Calling Weasley, or waking you up, or getting you a Sleeping Draught. Madam Pomfrey says I use them too often, but she’d probably give them to <em>you</em>, our most beloved saviour and all that. I just didn’t think it would be appreciated, coming from me.”</p><p>“It’s okay,” Harry said, choosing to address one part of Malfoy’s speech instead of all the rest. Malfoy was very talkative when he woke up. Really, all the time. But he was gentler, if Harry could even use that word with Malfoy, in the morning. Softer.</p><p>“And also,” continued Malfoy, his voice stronger, “I found your suffering amusing.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” Harry said, standing up and pulling his arms over his head briefly. His shirt rode up a bit and he pulled it down, because – <em>that</em> was weird, with Malfoy, and – whatever.</p><p>Malfoy stood up, too, stretching and yawning, rubbing at his eyes. He stumbled a bit into Harry, and Harry caught him at his elbow, and it felt good, just to touch someone. They stared at each other, laughing a bit awkwardly.</p><p>“Let’s not,” Harry said, “let’s not worry about it too much.”</p><p>“Okay,” Malfoy said, so they didn’t.</p><p>Harry went to change and brush his teeth first, and he waited for Malfoy on his bed instead of going down to find Ron and Hermione, and he wasn’t sure why. Malfoy came out of the bathroom in his school robes smelling like vanilla again so Harry gave in and asked him what it was, because he could now.</p><p>Malfoy looked startled. “It’s vanilla and jasmine. The face wash my mother gave me.”</p><p>“Uh,” Harry said with a grin on his face.</p><p>“Oh, shut up,” Malfoy huffed, “I don’t want to hear anything from you, you probably wash your face with dish soap and yet you still – ” Malfoy closed his mouth abruptly.</p><p>Harry decided to leave it. “No, it’s just,” he said, “I thought wizards would use spells for that sort of thing.” Wizards like the Malfoys, at least; Ginny and Hermione never had.</p><p>“Some do,” Malfoy said. “Mother’s always gotten her skincare items imported from France, a witch named Gladys, bit of a show-off, really – ”</p><p>“What, it’s magic face wash?” Harry said and tried not to grin again.</p><p>“No, it just applies it to your face automatically and gives you an everlasting glow for the day,” Malfoy said absently, like that was perfectly normal.</p><p>Harry imagined Ron’s face if he learned of this. He considered making fun of Malfoy for saying everlasting glow and using magic face wash but decided against it. “Muggles don’t have that.”</p><p>“I know,” Malfoy said, and then looked a bit shifty.</p><p>“How do you know that?”</p><p>Malfoy sighed dramatically and flopped down on his bed. “We’re going to be late because of you.”</p><p>“I think we already are,” Harry said and then he waited.</p><p>He had faith that Malfoy would not be able to stand the silence for longer than a few minutes and his faith was rewarded. Malfoy sighed again, loudly, and said, “I did some research.”</p><p>“Research,” Harry repeated.</p><p>“Ye-es,” Malfoy said. “Hands-on research. I didn’t know anything about Muggles at all before. Seemed like an oversight on my part, you know. If you <em>are</em> going to spread virulent hatred you should be accurate at the very least. I wasn’t accurate, and all pureblood children have to take Muggle Studies at Hogwarts now, it’s required. I didn’t want to be behind either. So I bought some books, and they were very interesting. Then I thought I should see what Muggles live like, and I couldn’t use magic for the past year, so – ”</p><p>“You couldn’t?”</p><p>Malfoy gave him an exasperated look. “Obviously not. Anyway, I got a Muggle flat and I <em>did</em> make some friends who are Muggles, they liked me.” His voice was proud, and Harry’s mouth tilted up. “They’re just people.”</p><p>“Yes,” said Harry with a bit of an edge to his voice, wary.</p><p>But Malfoy only went on plaintively to say, “I <em>wish</em> Muggle Studies had been required before, I’ve spent seventeen years not knowing what the cinnamon is! It’s exactly like magic.” Malfoy’s voice had started to get more and more excited as he rambled on, like he’d forgotten who he was talking to.</p><p>“Er, I think you mean cinema,” Harry said, smiling and trying not to think about exactly how well Arthur Weasley would get on with Draco Malfoy.</p><p>“Yes, exactly, cinnamon,” said Malfoy, and then, dreamily, “I watched the best Muggle film in all existence on the fellytone, though.”</p><p>“And what’s that?”</p><p>“Dirty Dancing,” Malfoy proclaimed with a flourish.</p><p>“Er,” Harry said, and was fortunate that at this moment the door opened to reveal Ron, Hermione, and Blaise Zabini, all arguing fiercely with each other. They stopped once they caught sight of Malfoy and Harry, both sitting on their separate beds, heads tilted towards each other like plants towards the sun.</p><p>“<em>Harry,</em>” Ron said.</p><p>“Er,” said Harry yet again. “Hey, Ron. Is something wrong?”</p><p>Ron looked at him like he was crazy. “It’s past noon, mate. Everyone’s having lunch.”</p><p>“You slept through all your morning classes,” Hermione said anxiously. “Oh, I knew we should have come here before! We checked in the morning but we – um.” Hermione cast a quick-silver glance at Malfoy, and looked embarrassed when she turned back to Harry. “We didn’t want to wake you up.”</p><p>“I was all for it,” Zabini drawled, raising an eyebrow at Malfoy and leaning against the doorway. Harry wondered if he was allergic to standing up without anything to recline on.</p><p>Malfoy had gone all pink again and did not seem like he could say a word. Harry couldn’t blame him when he thought of the way that he and Malfoy had been sleeping, the idea of Ron and Hermione and Blaise Zabini seeing them like that. It made his skin crawl in mortification.</p><p>“<em>Not </em>that it’s any of your business, but Harry hasn’t been sleeping,” Hermione fired at Zabini furiously, “and I wasn’t about to let you wake him up, it’s good for him to – ”</p><p>“Alright, alright,” Harry said hastily, “thanks, Hermione, I did sleep, um.”</p><p>Ron and Hermione were looking at him expectantly. Zabini was looking at Malfoy expectantly.</p><p>“I,” Harry said, and had no idea how to finish that sentence.</p><p>“See you later, Potter,” Malfoy said crisply, standing up in one smooth motion, inclining his head at Ron and Hermione.</p><p>It didn’t seem <em>right </em>to just let him go like that, like nothing had happened at all last night, so Harry found himself saying, “Wait, we can...head down to lunch together? Since we didn’t eat?”</p><p>Hermione and Ron stared at him, and Zabini scoffed out loud. But he thought Malfoy was smiling, a bit, no malice in his expression. He had never seen Malfoy smile like that before.</p><p>“Alright,” he said.</p><p>They went down to lunch together and ate a hearty helping of everything, since they’d missed breakfast and were both starving. Malfoy tried to steer Harry towards the Slytherin table, and Harry tried to move towards the Gryffindor table, and eventually they sat at the Ravenclaw table, by Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein, who looked absolutely bewildered. Zabini, muttering darkly about Pansy Parkinson for some reason, sat down next to them and spent the whole time flirting scandalously with Terry Boot, which. Harry had not expected. He hadn’t known Zabini, of all people – well. Terry seemed half-interested and half-alarmed, anyway.</p><p>Ron and Hermione, of course, had followed Harry, like they always had, though he could see in their eyes that they were simply dying to confront him about this.</p><p>Malfoy kept stealing Harry’s food and he casually leaned against Harry, who sat sideways so he could talk to Malfoy more easily, though Malfoy was only talking about how plebeian and awful it was that he’d slept on the sofa. It wasn’t like Harry couldn’t see the shock and horror on everyone else’s faces. It was just that it didn’t seem to matter. Neither did the fact that he’d missed his classes, or that his back still ached from last night. He didn’t feel tired for the first time he could remember since – since before the war, probably.</p><p>Luna came over to sit next to them. She didn’t look surprised to see Malfoy, who turned ashen at the very sight of her.</p><p>Harry’s stomach squirmed unpleasantly, but Luna struck up a conversation about the newest issue of the <em>Quibbler, </em>and once Malfoy stopped jumping and looking at Luna like she was about to cast a Jelly-Legs hex on him, he joined in hesitantly. He listened to Luna and did not say a thing about some of the more outrageous theories, and just kept offering to refill her pumpkin juice. Harry wanted to snap at Malfoy that giving Luna juice wasn’t going to make up for having held her prisoner, but he trusted Luna. She knew what she was doing. And Malfoy was trying, so obviously hard. He didn’t see how no one else could tell.</p><p>That night, they didn’t sleep on the settee, but Malfoy talked as he got into bed, and Harry fell asleep with the comforting sound of his voice still ringing in his ears. Malfoy was fascinating, he always had been, even when he’d been fascinatingly horrible. Harry fell asleep now trying to figure him out the way he had fallen asleep trying to figure out every new problem the world had thrown at him: prickly, pointy, perplexing Malfoy. It was something to concentrate on, without any of the fear and anxiety that any of the other things he’d needed to concentrate on involved.</p><p>He woke up from a nightmare about Sirius and Malfoy was already awake, sitting on the floor in front of his bed and working on his Charms essay. It hurt to think of Malfoy not being able to sleep for the past week and just lying there, so that he would not bother Harry. Even though it wasn’t like that wasn’t what Malfoy deserved.</p><p>Harry got out of bed silently to join him, and Malfoy offered him some coffee because apparently he was crazy and had stolen several cups of coffee from the kitchen and stored them in their bedroom.</p><p>He thought about asking Malfoy to fall asleep together again, but he couldn’t imagine actually asking for that, even if he phrased it like a – an arrangement for the good of their ability to focus on class, or something. It was fine. The company, he thought, worked too.</p><p>He looked at Malfoy’s bent head as he hummed something and consulted a textbook and drank copious, probably unhealthy amounts of coffee.</p><p>He liked the company, after all.</p><p>────────────</p><p>Malfoy was an awful roommate by most standards.</p><p>As if talking every minute of every day wasn’t enough, sometimes he started talking in his sleep, nonsense words that Harry couldn’t make heads or tails of but loved to make fun of. His favourite hobby was to insult Harry’s hair in the morning. He took elaborately long baths, locked himself in the bathroom and sang Muggle songs and old, awful pureblood drinking songs that got stuck in Harry’s head for days after.</p><p>Most of all, he sang the Dirty Dancing soundtrack: day and night, sometimes just softly when they were going to sleep, so that to Harry’s irritation he got used to it. Harry had never seen nor heard of Dirty Dancing in his life and yet he now had the soundtrack memorized, and had to put up with Malfoy constantly saying, “Nobody puts Baby in a corner!” every time Harry complained that he’d left his robes on the floor. Harry also left his robes on the floor. They were both slobs.</p><p>Malfoy had filled up almost all of their bookshelf with more books than Harry had thought anyone but Hermione owned. He was taking N.E.W.T level Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, because he planned on being a Cursebreaker after school. He was taking History of Magic too, and he constantly recited his notes when he was writing assignments. Each night before they went to sleep, if they went upstairs at the same night, Malfoy talked at great length about how insufferable Binns was and about all his classes, so that Harry felt obligated to talk about his too.</p><p>He waited for Malfoy to sneer at him or insult the Weasleys and Hermione or ask Professor McGonagall if they could change rooms, or just change rooms without asking and shut him out completely. He didn’t. He was still incredibly annoying, of course.</p><p>“Harry, you’re grinning like a loon again,” Ron said at breakfast.</p><p>“Oh, sorry,” Harry said, looking away from where Malfoy was making a face at him from across the Great Hall. He looked at Ron and Hermione, sitting in front of him, who exchanged meaningful looks.</p><p>“It’s time,” Hermione told Ron, nodding bravely.</p><p>Harry bit off a large piece of his toast, nonplussed. “Time for what?”</p><p>“Harry,” said Hermione, folding her hands in her lap and staring at him in an incredibly frightening way. “Would you, perhaps, like to explain the Draco Malfoy situation to us now?”</p><p>“Um,” said Harry, swallowing. “No? What? Er, I think we’re friends now.” Friends was a bit of a stretch. <em>Were</em> they friends? Malfoy certainly wouldn’t say so, though they’d agreed to be, of a sort. Frenemies? Roommates? Living together meant they spent most of their time together unless one of them was working actively to avoid the other, and Malfoy wasn’t doing that anymore. “Don’t tell Malfoy that,” he added hastily. “He’ll make fun of me.”</p><p>Hermione’s expression grew steadily tragic. “I can’t do this.”</p><p>“Be strong, honey,” said Ron, patting her on the back.</p><p>“You guys are being really weird,” Harry informed them.</p><p>“Haha, yeah,” said Ron unconvincingly. “Look, Harry. You know how you are with Malfoy.”</p><p>“Uh, no I don’t.”</p><p>“You are a man possessed,” Ron said gravely. “We lived through sixth year, Harry, and you know, we’re doing our best to understand – ”</p><p>“What d’you mean you lived through sixth year?” Harry said. He looked at Hermione, thinking that must be what this was about. Of course they wouldn’t have forgiven Malfoy. Harry didn’t know if <em>he </em>had forgiven Malfoy – or, well, he probably had, but he hadn’t thought much about it. “I get it,” he said.</p><p>Ron looked relieved. “You do?”</p><p>“Yeah, I mean.” Harry looked down at the table and thought of Malfoy’s sneering face and pointed barbs and the way he had picked the wrong side; Hermione’s shuttered face the first time she heard the word Mudblood and the scars on Bill’s face. “You guys don’t have to talk to him or anything, but we are roommates, and I think this is probably better than the alternative – ”</p><p>“Oh, no,” said Ron sadly.</p><p>Hermione took over. “That isn’t what we meant, Harry. Obviously, we still think Malfoy is an unpleasant little bastard – ”</p><p>“He’s not – ” Harry began defensively, and stopped. Malfoy <em>was </em>an unpleasant little bastard.</p><p>Hermione kept going, though her eyebrows were raised now. “But he’s really unimportant now, with everything that’s happened. We’re only trying to make sure you’re happy.”</p><p>“What,” Harry said. “And what did you mean, when you said you lived through sixth year?”</p><p>“Oh, Harry,” said Ron, sadder still.</p><p>“Sixth year, and all the years before,” Hermione said, with a glance at Ron. “We’d been ready for the possibility that your Malfoy obsession would come back, this year. I even thought it would be a good thing! Help you feel a little more like yourself, you know.”</p><p>“Obsession,” repeated Harry, flatly. “I was not – I was not <em>obsessed</em>.”</p><p>“Let’s not get hung up on specifics,” Hermione said quickly. “I expected you to restart the whole situation, start proclaiming Draco was evil and all that. For old times’ sake!”</p><p>Harry looked at his toast depressingly. It now looked about as appetizing as sawdust. This was a terrible conversation that made no sense whatsoever. Possibly nothing would ever make sense again.</p><p>“Then it turned out you were sharing a room. And I was prepared, Harry,” said Hermione earnestly. “I was prepared for the stalking, and the constant talking about it – ”</p><p>“I <em>never</em> stalked anyone!” Harry protested vehemently at this gross slander. “Especially not Malfoy, I – he was doing evil things! I had to stop him!”</p><p>“Did you also have to follow him to the bathroom and ask me constantly why he wasn’t sleeping and why he looked sick?” Ron said. “Did you have to stay up at night and wonder where he kept going at night, and why he wasn’t talking to you or trying to bother you like he did every year before that? Did you have to contemplate missing Quidditch matches in order to follow him around some more?” Ron’s voice began to get a bit overwrought. “Did you, Harry? Did you?”</p><p>Harry eyed Ron with some alarm. Well, when he put it like <em>that</em>. Harry muttered something indistinct darkly.</p><p>“We had to have some traumatizing conversations with Professor McGonagall,” Hermione reminisced.</p><p>“Professor <em>McGonagall</em>?” repeated Harry, thunderstruck, looking around to make sure no one at the breakfast table was overhearing this horrifying conversation.</p><p>“She gave us some pamphlets,” said Hermione. “I think I still have some of them, I don’t know if they’d be useful, though.”</p><p>“Please stop talking,” Harry said in a small voice.</p><p>“Gladly,” Hermione said. “But Harry – this, I was not prepared for. When we saw you that first day – I mean, you fell asleep with Malfoy, and you haven’t been able to sleep since – ”</p><p>“That wasn’t. I mean. Look, I know Malfoy’s – ” Harry waved a hand in a vague gesture that could mean ‘evil’ or ‘insane’. “But I’m not stalking him. We’re just roommates. I don’t see the problem.”</p><p>“You know how you were after the war,” said Hermione. “How you’ve been lately.”</p><p>Actually, the immediate aftermath of the war was mostly a blur. Harry recalled passing out for two days straight in Ron’s bed and then throwing a lot of things and punching a few trees occasionally. He’d gone out with the Aurors and members of the D.A. to round up the rest of the Death Eaters, to help rebuild Hogwarts, to talk to families of the dead and try not to throw up afterwards, to release some of that pent-up energy that he had no idea what to do with now. They’d stayed in the Burrow, mostly, where everyone was quiet and wretched and George had not come out of his room. They’d gone to Grimmauld Place, too, to check on Kreacher, and Harry had stayed there for a bit, but the musty and dark halls of the house Sirius had hated made him feel worse than he already had. Miserable was probably a good word for how Harry had been, or furious; he’d been stuck between burning anger and an icy nothing. And now, Hogwarts.</p><p>“I don’t know,” Harry said.</p><p>“No one’s judging you or pitying you,” said Ron in a low voice. “Not us. Never us.”</p><p>Harry swallowed. “I know that.”</p><p>“You’ve been a lot better recently,” Hermione said, “and I just want to make sure you’re alright.”</p><p>Harry looked at her pleading face, the brown of her hair curling over her neck, her dark skin and wide, warm eyes, Ron’s arm thrown over her shoulder. He had no idea what he would do if he lost either one of them. “I’m alright,” he said. “Don’t worry.”</p><p>He still didn’t see where Malfoy came into this, though.</p><p>────────────</p><p>“Sugaarrr,” Malfoy crooned from the shower, “d-du-du du du du. Ohhhh honey honey, d-du-du du du du. You are my candy girl, and you got me wanting you.”</p><p>“You listen to terrifying songs!” Harry shouted at the bathroom door from his position at his desk, where he was trying to complete an essay for Potions. Beside the cup of coffee Malfoy had set out for him, totally ignoring the fact that Harry didn’t even like coffee that much, was the assigned reading from the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. He’d already completed it. Harry thought Hermione would probably be proud that he was starting on homework due for Monday on Friday evening.</p><p>It was hard to take the new professor seriously, since she trained Aurors and Harry had caught Death Eaters with her before, but she was a definite step-up from every other D.A.D.A professor Harry had ever had, except for Lupin, who would always remain Harry’s favourite teacher.</p><p>It was also hard to concentrate when Malfoy was singing in the shower, by which Harry meant it should have been hard to concentrate but wasn’t. He just wished Malfoy was out of the shower to insult his essay and thereby help him realise what he’d done wrong.</p><p>Harry chewed on the end of his quill and sang under his breath, “You are my candy girl,” until he realised what he was doing and stopped, appalled.</p><p>Someone knocked on the door; grateful for the reprieve from his essay, Harry stood up and opened the door to see an unusual grouping: Blaise Zabini, Parvati and Padma, and Susan Bones.</p><p>“Er,” said Harry, staring. “Hello?”</p><p>With Malfoy came the rest of the Slytherins, who everyone else had slowly begun to mingle with. Harry liked Daphne and Zabini well enough – or, he didn’t mind them at least – but he also honestly had no idea who they were. All he really knew about Padma was that she was Parvati’s sister, and she’d taken Ron to the Yule Ball and clearly been disdainful of every part of it. Susan he was more familiar with, but before fifth year his memories of her were hazy. As in, nonexistent.</p><p>“Hi Harry,” said Parvati brightly. “We thought about having a little get-together, all of us, since it’s the weekend and all.”</p><p>“Hermione found out,” Padma said, “and she said we had to ask Professor McGonagall, but we figure she’s probably going to let us.”</p><p>“If not we’re going to do it anyway,” Zabini drawled out. He was leaning against the doorway, naturally, because he was an enormous pillock.</p><p>“We wanted to ask if you would come,” Susan said.</p><p>“The party won’t be complete without you,” Zabini said, voice extremely sarcastic.</p><p>“Honey,” came the sound of Malfoy’s voice in the background over running water, “d-du-du du du du. Ohhhhh, sugar sugar. Da da da something something something.”</p><p>Parvati, Padma, and Susan looked bizarrely intrigued and puzzled. Zabini looked completely unsurprised and a bit resigned.</p><p>“Er, sure, I’ll ask Malfoy,” Harry said and closed the door.</p><p>It wasn’t a bad idea. He thought everyone deserved a bit of a break.</p><p>He knocked on the bathroom door.</p><p>“What?” Malfoy screamed.</p><p>“Are you done?” Harry screamed back.</p><p>“Almost!” Malfoy hollered, which could mean anything from one minute to one hour.</p><p>Harry sat back down and tried not to think about Malfoy in the shower, damp hair and sweet-smelling shampoo, droplets of water falling down his neck, because that was weird.</p><p>Malfoy came out of the shower in five minutes, anyway.</p><p>“You listen to terrifying songs,” Harry told him again, because it always deserved to be said. “You’ve traumatised me for life.”</p><p>“You were already traumatised for life, Potter,” Malfoy said cheerfully as he cast a Drying Spell on his hair, which was pretty true.</p><p>“Zabini and some of the others came and asked if we wanted to have a bit of a get-together with everyone,” Harry said.</p><p>One of Malfoy’s eyebrows shot up and the other followed in quick succession. “Interesting.”</p><p>“Do you. Wanna go?”</p><p>“I don’t see why that has any effect on you,” Malfoy said airily, “but I suppose so.”</p><p>Harry didn’t know why it mattered to him whether Malfoy went or not, either, but it did. So he got his Invisibility Cloak and went with Seamus and Ron to bring back a couple of cartons of Firewhiskey and bottles of Butterbeer, while Neville and the Hufflepuffs brought back appropriate snacks from the kitchens. Hermione and Dean, elected as the most responsible and likely candidates that McGonagall would listen to, came back and said McGonagall had given them permission; by then Harry was feeling rather attached to this idea and the rush he always got from breaking the rules, so the idea of permission only mattered in that he’d rather never disappoint Professor McGonagall ever. Malfoy and Anthony Goldstein had found a way to connect to the Wizarding Wireless Network on a gramophone that Malfoy caressed terrifyingly before setting down. Neville had stumbled into Ginny and Luna on his way to the kitchens, and came back with them in tow, shrugging helplessly at the look on Ron’s face as if to say <em>what could I do? </em>which was understandable.</p><p>Hermione eyed the Firewhiskey disapprovingly when they came back. “You do realise this is not at all what Professor McGonagall intended.”</p><p>“Oh, come on, ‘Mione,” Ron said, grinning at her, and Hermione sighed and tried to hide her smile.</p><p>Harry was perfectly prepared for everything to be awkward and uncomfortable. They’d never all hung out like this before, after all. Really, he did not know most of these people, and if he did, it was in war, not school.</p><p>Two hours later, the party was in full-swing and everyone had drunk quite a lot of Firewhiskey amongst a backdrop of Celestina Warbeck and awful opera music, which was what the music seemed stuck on. Ron and Hermione kept making extraordinarily sappy faces at each other; Ginny was flirting outrageously with everyone except for Zabini, who was flirting outrageously with no one except for Ginny; Anthony was performing ‘You Charmed the Heart Right Out of Me’ loudly with Justin and Seamus as back-up singers and Luna swaying beside them; and Harry was sitting on the floor watching Malfoy do all his best impressions. He wasn’t sure how he’d ended up here, or when their legs had got all tangled together.</p><p>He was a little drunk, though he hadn’t had that much – not interested in losing control in front of everyone here. He hadn’t been raised sipping wine, though, the way most purebloods seemed to have been, and he was possibly more drunk than he had intended.</p><p>Malfoy looked extremely gratified when Harry almost snorted with laughter and spit out his drink at his Slughorn impression. “This is the kind of reception I deserve,” he said, tapping his foot against Harry’s approvingly, “although I recall never getting it from you before.”</p><p>“That’s because your impressions were always of <em>me</em> and they were always incredibly insulting.”</p><p>“They were still a work of art,” Malfoy said smugly.</p><p>“They were not,” Harry said.</p><p>Malfoy tapped his empty glass of Firewhiskey and muttered a spell; it transformed into a pair of glasses that looked identical to Harry’s.</p><p>“No,” Harry said, laughing.</p><p>They did look just like Harry’s glasses, even if they were strange on Malfoy’s face. McGonagall would have been proud of the Transfiguration, if not the drinking.</p><p>Malfoy put the glasses on and slouched his shoulders dramatically. “Er, hello,” he said, voice ridiculously low. “I’m, er, Harry. Harry Potter. Oh, you don’t know me? That’s probably not true. I’m really, er, famous, but it’s pretty annoying since I’m just an ordinary guy. By the way, this is my best side. I’ve saved the wizarding world twice but I’m ashamed of myself for failing to save everyone in the world because everything in the world is my responsibility. Er sorry, who did you want that autograph signed out to?”</p><p>Harry turned his hair blonde with a Cosmetic Charm of the like that he, Ron, and Hermione had used in the war, and tried to affect a drawl. “<em>I’m </em>Draco Malfoy. I think the world revolves entirely around me. I’ve never won a Quidditch game against my bitter rival, Harry Potter, who is a total twerp and terrible at everything, but everyone <em>always </em>pays him more attention than me, <em>why</em> won’t they look at <em>me</em> – ”</p><p>“I really wish everyone would leave me alone so I could live out the rest of my life as a hermit in peace,” said Malfoy loudly, pushing his glasses up on his nose. The Quidditch jab had probably stung. “Oh, did you want another autograph? Anything for my fans.”</p><p>“I’m always singing, even when everyone begs me to stop, because I know how talented and misunderstood I really am – ”</p><p>“I’m a patron for all things Right and Just and Saintly, except for when I totally cheated in Potions, but I still never got in any trouble for that, because I’m loved by everyone – ”</p><p>“How d’you know I cheated in Potions?” Harry said, laughing and breaking character.</p><p>“Oh, <em>please</em>,” said Malfoy, mouth twitching. “It was obvious, and completely unfair, by the way.” He looked at Harry’s hair as if he couldn’t help it, and started laughing.</p><p>“Hey,” Harry objected, still grinning. “I can bring up the glasses, you know.”</p><p>“You look <em>ridiculous</em>,” Malfoy said, laughing like a hyena. This was the first time Harry had ever seen Malfoy laugh, really laugh, and it was disconcerting.</p><p>“Hello, Harry, Draco,” Luna said, drifting towards them. “I like your hair, Harry. Are you going to keep it like that?”</p><p>“No,” Harry said, “it’s, er.” This last word made Malfoy start laughing harder. Harry glared at him and tried not to laugh. “I’ll change it back.”</p><p>“That’s disappointing,” Luna remarked serenely. “We all match, now, you see.”</p><p>Malfoy was now laughing so hard he was clutching his stomach and Harry couldn’t even complain because he didn’t think Malfoy had laughed like that since before sixth year and even if he had, Harry had never seen it. “That’s true,” he gasped. “You should keep it.”</p><p>Harry made a face at him and turned his hair back to its original colour, as someone managed to find a way to turn off Celestina Warbeck and put on the Weird Sisters’ new single.</p><p>“Why do you live only to disappoint me?” Malfoy asked him sadly.</p><p>Before Harry could answer him, Ginny leaped up from behind Luna with her red hair loose and falling down her back. She linked her arms around Luna’s neck and Luna reached up to hold her hands against Ginny’s absently.</p><p>“Harryyy,” Ginny said, “why are you in this corner aloneeee? Oh, hey, Malfoy.” She squinted at him for a second. “Huh. I didn’t think Ron was telling the truth about this. Nice glasses.”</p><p>Malfoy smiled weakly. He was not laughing anymore. He took off the glasses and turned them back into an empty glass.</p><p>“Harry, Malfoy’s stolen you away,” Ginny said. “Come play Spin the Wand with us. Come sit with us. Come dance with me.”</p><p>“You know I don’t dance,” Harry said, tilting his head up and smiling at her.</p><p>“I think Blaise Zabini is very interested in dancing with you,” Luna offered.</p><p>Harry had rather got the impression that Zabini wouldn’t go for Ginny because of her family, but Ginny could take care of herself, and he doubted she’d dance with Zabini.</p><p>Ginny laughed and said, “Come on, Harry.” She let go of Luna to drag Harry up from the floor. Harry submitted good-naturedly, and when Malfoy didn’t stand up, he looked back and raised his eyebrows until Malfoy was following them and Luna.</p><p>He could hear Luna talking to Malfoy about Wrackspurts and his careful responses behind them. Ginny looked thoughtful beside him. Things felt a lot easier between them now that they weren’t pretending to be something they weren’t.</p><p>“So,” Harry said in an undertone. “Blaise Zabini?”</p><p>“Bit of a weirdo, really,” Ginny said cheerfully.</p><p>Harry looked back at Malfoy because he couldn’t help it, and he saw that Ginny had noticed.</p><p>“So,” she said. “Draco Malfoy?”</p><p>“Bit of a weirdo,” Harry echoed, and smiled at her.</p><p>Ginny laughed, wild and free, and went to sit in Neville’s lap where he was perched on an armchair, probably just so she could see how red Ron’s face would get. Luna balanced herself precariously on the arm of the chair and crossed her legs at the ankles. Harry thought he could see what it must have been like, the three of them during that year at Hogwarts he, Ron, and Hermione had missed. No wonder he and Ginny couldn’t understand each other after a year apart at war.</p><p>“Doesn’t it bother you that Blaise is flirting with your girlfriend?” Malfoy asked, sidling up next to him.</p><p>“Who?” said Harry. “Ginny? She’s not my girlfriend. We broke up in the summer.”</p><p>“Oh,” Malfoy said.</p><p>He looked so awkward, shoulders curling in and head down, that Harry nudged their arms together and gestured for him to sit down by Ron and Hermione.</p><p>“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Malfoy said, moving away.</p><p>Harry caught his wrist. “Everyone’s too drunk to care, Malfoy.”</p><p>Malfoy’s gaze flickered down to Harry’s hand and Harry let go quickly, unsettled down in his bones for a reason he couldn’t put into words.</p><p>“I’m going to get another drink,” he said, but Malfoy didn’t look like he’d heard over the sound of the music and everyone chatting and laughing noisily, so Harry moved closer, his mouth to Malfoy’s ear and his heart skipping a beat and said it again.</p><p>He waited for Malfoy to nod and sit down next to Daphne Greengrass and Parvati Patil, who was wearing a butterfly choker with her head in Daphne’s lap, before he moved away.</p><p>The drinks had been set in Neville and Justin’s room sometime after everyone emptied the first few cartons, probably by Hermione. Harry swung by to grab a bottle of Firewhiskey; he could hear the music from up here. He felt unsteady, and he didn’t think it was just because of the drinks.</p><p>He left the room and started towards the stairs, stumbling into Dean on the way.</p><p>“Hey,” Dean said, a bit surprised. “Blaise and Seamus are switching the music back and forth between Celestina Warbeck and the Weird Sisters, it’s giving me a headache.” He nodded towards the bottle in Harry’s hand. “Mind if I have some?”</p><p>Harry passed it over and watched Dean’s mouth around the rim of the bottle as he drank. Dean gave him back the bottle and Harry took a long drag, Firewhiskey burning his throat, before leaning down to set it on either Neville or Justin’s desk. When he straightened and turned around, Dean’s mouth met his in a kiss.</p><p>It wasn’t the first time Harry had kissed a boy. He and Ginny had gone to a Muggle rave last summer, after they had broken up but were still trying to prove they could be friends, and Seamus had gone with them. Ginny attracted a small crowd of people who fell in love with her, and Harry and Seamus were left alone: he remembered the crowds of sweaty people around them, steadily drinking while they both laughed at Ginny’s paramours, bright lights flashing over Seamus’s face, the neon pink paint Ginny had brushed over Harry’s collarbone. It wasn’t like Harry had ever thought about it – guys – much. But they kept getting pushed together in the crowd, and when Ginny had gone home with a girl with a tongue piercing, Harry took Seamus back to Grimmauld Place. Ginny had cackled at them both.</p><p>He thought about it fondly later. It was Seamus, and they were both drunk, and high besides, so it didn’t have to be embarrassing or a big deal. He could admit, in the morning, when he woke up, that he’d liked Cho Chang and Ginny, but also Oliver Wood and Cedric Diggory. No one had ever told him you could like both, but Ron and Hermione had been really great about it, though Hermione had gone a little overboard with research.</p><p>He kissed Dean back, the desk digging into his back and the music ringing in his ears, curling his hand around the back of Dean’s neck. He thought, ridiculously, of Malfoy’s mouth, his throat when he swallowed or laughed, and kissed Dean harder like he needed to make up for that moment of mistaken notion, because he <em>did</em> he wasn’t supposed to –</p><p>Someone pushed open the door, and Dean pulled away, dazed.</p><p>“Oh,” said Malfoy’s voice, faltering. “Sorry.”</p><p>And the door closed again before Harry could say anything, not that he knew what he would say, not that he needed to say anything. He wondered whether Malfoy was going to be a bastard about this. Surely not, since Blaise –</p><p>“Oh?” Dean echoed, looking at Harry with raised eyebrows.</p><p>“It’s not like that,” Harry said, like an idiot. “I – er.” He didn’t know what to say now. He thought wildly of Ginny, but he couldn’t imagine she would care much. She’d probably laugh. He should tell her anyway, just in case. He thought of Seamus – that was weird, certainly? “I don’t think – I don’t know if Seamus told you that in the summer when we went to that rave, we – just so you know – ”</p><p>“Oh,” Dean said again. Harry thought hysterically that <em>oh</em> didn’t sound like a word anymore.</p><p>Dean looked distracted all of a sudden, almost angry. He said, “I don’t know what Seamus <em>wants </em>from me.”</p><p>The only thing Harry could think of to say to this was, “Um.”</p><p>“It’s not like that,” Dean said, and then exchanged a rueful glance with Harry. “I mean – well, sorry, anyway. I think I’m drunk.” He sank down on the nearest bed. Harry hoped Neville and Justin never learned of the events that occurred in this room.</p><p>Harry sat down beside him, running a hand through his hair, which was a horrible idea because it made the whole hair situation even worse. “Me too.”</p><p>They passed the bottle of Firewhiskey back and forth between them, mutually agreeing that they both needed it, and sat in companionable silence.</p><p>When he and Dean arrived back in the common room, it seemed like Zabini had won the battle, because Celestina Warbeck was blaring loudly and Blaise was singing all the words with his wand as a microphone to serenade an amused-looking Ginny while Seamus booed loudly. Neville was making out with Lisa Turpin and Ron, horrifyingly, was dancing shirtless while Hermione tried to cajole him into putting his shirt back on. She did not seem to be trying very hard.</p><p>Harry looked for Malfoy, whose white-blond head was always distinctive in every crowd, and found him near the Patil twins, Daphne, and Anthony, with an awful lot of bottles of Firewhiskey beside him. Harry nodded at Dean, who went over to Terry and Susan, and made his way over to Ron and Hermione, even though his feet felt like they wanted to keep walking over to Malfoy.</p><p>“Harry!” Ron said loudly when he came over. “We haven’t seen you in so long. You’ve been with – ” Here he let out an enormous giggle. “Malfoy, ha.”</p><p>“Sorry about that, mate,” Harry said. “Do you want, maybe, to put on a shirt?”</p><p>Ron looked puzzled. “I’m not wearing one?”</p><p>“He’s had a lot of Firewhiskey,” said a frazzled-looking but fond Hermione. “I think we’re probably pushing our luck, McGonagall’s going to have our heads if we keep this up any longer, though I did cast about a million Silencing Charms over the door and to my knowledge none of the teachers’ offices are that close to our common room – ”</p><p>“It’ll be fine,” Harry assured her.</p><p>Ron slung his arm around her waist and she looked at him affectionately, giving him a kiss. Hermione was more demonstrative when she was drunk, and when Ron started kissing her back enthusiastically, Harry decided to back away.</p><p>He wasn’t worried about losing Ron and Hermione. Or, maybe he was a little. He just didn’t like that feeling that he was a hanger-on, unnecessary to their dynamic. And also, even though there was not a lot of privacy in a tent or the Burrow and he had basically seen it all, he wasn’t interested in watching them make out.</p><p>The party fizzled out eventually, until everyone was climbing up the stairs to their dormitories, Ginny and Luna sharing with the girls so they wouldn’t be caught sneaking out to their own. Terry and Justin led the way to the boys’ dormitory with a serious and increasingly nonsensical discussion on conspiracy theories about Lady Di’s death. They’d lost much of their number: Neville had disappeared in his room with Lisa Turpin a while ago, Ron and Hermione had gone to Hermione’s room, and Anthony Goldstein had thrown up and fallen asleep on one of the couches downstairs. Susan had Vanished the mess but no one wanted to wake him up.</p><p>Harry and Malfoy went into their room stumbling and yawning and humming Celestina Warbeck, to find Zabini spread out on Harry’s bed, asleep with his robes and shoes on. He looked like a model that had decided to take a nap mid-photoshoot.</p><p>“Oh my God,” Harry said indignantly. “That’s not allowed! That’s my bed!”</p><p>“That is pathetic,” Malfoy said, the first words he’d spoken to Harry in hours. “Honestly, this is a new low for him. Normally he’d have bagged one of the Patil twins instead. Well, Daphne has that covered.”</p><p>Harry wasn’t sure what Malfoy was talking about. He leaned in to poke Zabini’s leg, tentatively, and then shoved his shoulder to no response. He turned to Malfoy, who had kicked off his shoes and was pulling off his socks while singing under his breath, “From the marshy bogs of Queerditch…” Here he paused to laugh maniacally for some reason before continuing, “Grew a sport so fine and fair, in which each witch and wizard would...something...through the aiirr,” and falling into bed.</p><p>“Malfoy,” Harry said, “help me get your Slytherin off my bed.”</p><p>“Nooo,” Malfoy murmured, pulling the covers over his face.</p><p>“You are cruel,” said Harry forlornly.</p><p>Malfoy sighed. “You’re...cruel. I’m. Tired.”</p><p>Harry stared at his bed, stolen by a diabolical, merciless, and snoring Slytherin, and then at Malfoy’s, which was really just too big for him, Harry reasoned. He took off his own shoes and socks and then his shirt and jeans, tossing them in a random direction, and walked over to Malfoy’s bed.</p><p>“Shove over,” he said, and climbed in.</p><p>“What,” Malfoy said, eyes closed. “No...have your own. Stay away.”</p><p>“Have to,” Harry explained.</p><p>“Hm,” Malfoy mumbled, “beat back those Bludgers, boys, and chuck that Quaffle here.”</p><p>Harry yawned enormously and stretched out his legs before curling them up and tucking his head on the pillow. He meant to tell Malfoy to move over, but then he was already falling asleep.</p><p>────────────</p><p>He woke up in the night sweaty and shaking from a nightmare, a bad one about Voldemort, with Mad-Eye shrieking, “CONSTANT VIGILANCE,” at him and the dead of Hogwarts resting on the tables in the Great Hall. Malfoy moved his head to press against Harry’s shoulder and said, “Shhh,” softly, over and over, stroking Harry’s hair until he had fallen asleep again.</p><p>────────────</p><p>“What <em>am </em>I looking at here?” said Zabini’s voice, amused, and Harry’s eyes snapped open.</p><p>His head hurt so much he almost reached up to touch his scar to see if it was burning. It felt like something had crawled up in his throat and died. But he was warm, comfortable, bound up in sheets and blankets, and someone sleeping next to him – Malfoy, who still looked asleep, with his arm slung across Harry’s chest and his head resting on Harry’s shoulder, legs sprawled across the bed.</p><p>Harry absolutely could not remember why he had decided taking off his shirt and jeans and sleeping in Malfoy’s bed was a good idea. It was clearly a terrible idea, and he hated drunk him for not seeing that.</p><p>Zabini was standing in front of Malfoy’s bed, looking completely refreshed and not hungover at all, the bastard.</p><p>As best as he could with Malfoy sleeping on him and a burning feeling of absolute mortification, Harry glared at Zabini and hissed, “You stole my bed.”</p><p>“And instead of using a spell or your personal physique to kick me off, you decided to cuddle up to someone I remember you violently hating with a passion and in fact attempting to murder once, perfectly reasonable idea,” said Zabini. “Though I admit, last night was not my finest moment. I apologise most sincerely. Quite impolite of me. In my defense my advances had been ignored for the first time in, well, forever. I was facing a serious case of heartbreak and I’d had to get incredibly drunk to deal with it, and mistook your room for my own.”</p><p>This was too much talking for Harry. “I did not attempt to murder – ”</p><p>“Perhaps you’d like to join me for breakfast,” Zabini cut in smoothly. “We have some things to discuss.”</p><p>With the hand that wasn’t curled up around Malfoy’s back, Harry flipped him off and gestured down in a way he hoped meant that he clearly could not move, and clutched his head because the simple act of looking down was <em>pain</em>.</p><p>“What a shame,” said Zabini, producing a clear bottle of liquid out of thin air. “Since if you came to talk with me, I could give you this Hangover Potion.”</p><p>Harry gritted his teeth. “Just give it to me, and I’ll come down when – ” He looked at Malfoy, who looked peaceful and still in sleep the way he never was in real life, mouth curled into an uncertain shape instead of a sneer. He remembered Malfoy murmuring nonsense in his sleep last night but he hadn’t minded. He remembered Malfoy helping him sleep, too. For a moment he thought about reaching out to touch Malfoy’s hair.</p><p>Zabini cleared his throat.</p><p>Harry had honestly forgotten he was there. “I’ll come down soon. Fifteen minutes.”</p><p>“I’ve always heard Gryffindors keep their promises but I will hold you to that,” said Zabini, setting the bottle in Harry’s free hand before exiting with a wink. Harry winced at the sound of the door closing.</p><p>With a Herculean effort, he then extracted his other hand away, trying not to jostle Malfoy. He opened the bottle of Hangover Potion and drank half of it, deciding to leave the rest for Malfoy but also having nowhere to put it. His head felt as clear as it would ever be and he felt less groggy, less likely to throw up.</p><p>He was trying to reach down and set the potion on the ground when he felt Malfoy stir and yawn, sleep-soft and quiet. Harry froze, turning around.</p><p>Malfoy was staring at him, eyes open and incredibly grey.</p><p>“Hello,” Harry said weakly.</p><p>Malfoy kept staring. He looked down at his hand tossed carelessly over Harry’s chest and quickly snatched it back.</p><p>Harry felt it was past time to extricate himself from their position. He moved away, sitting up even though his body ached in protest, and stretched a bit before turning back to Malfoy, who had sat up.</p><p>Malfoy’s hair was rumpled and his clothes were disheveled and he had pillow creases on his face. It was obviously not adorable, because it was Malfoy, but if it wasn’t. Well.</p><p>“Hangover Potion?” Harry offered.</p><p>“Oh, thank Merlin,” Malfoy breathed, clutching at the bottle and downing all of it in one gulp. When he finished he made a face and shook his head, like a cat shaking off water. Harry watched him and tried not to smile.</p><p>“I am never drinking again,” Malfoy proclaimed. “Oh my God. Why did I do that. Oh my God. You kissed Dean Thomas. Oh my God.”</p><p>“Oh,” said Harry, remembering this vaguely. He waited with trepidation for Malfoy to kick him out of the bed. “Do you have a problem with that?”</p><p>“Do I have a problem with that,” Malfoy echoed. “Do I – no, I – why would you ask that.”</p><p>“Um, because you’re freaking out?”</p><p>“I’m not freaking out!” Malfoy said hysterically. “I didn’t know you – you! And Ginevra Weasley and – <em>she </em>was dating Thomas, wasn’t she? Oh my God, you’ve loved Dean Thomas this whole time!”</p><p>“What are you talking about,” Harry said, alarmed. “Nothing really happened with Dean and I do not <em>love</em> him, and I – well, I did love Ginny. I’m bisexual. Hermione gave me a lot of pamphlets about it. I don’t know why I said that. I wish I hadn’t said that.”</p><p>Thankfully Malfoy did not seem to be paying attention. “You’re,” he started, looking lost. “<em>You</em>!”</p><p>“I think you’re freaking out, Malfoy,” Harry said. “If you’re going to be a dick about this – ”</p><p>“No, I’m not – ” Malfoy looked despairing. “Your <em>hair</em>!”</p><p>“What?” Harry said, mystified.</p><p>“It is distracting,” said Malfoy very sternly. “I am still hungover. In the past few minutes I have been put through the wringer, emotionally speaking. And now you seem to think I’m straight.”</p><p>“Are...you...not?”</p><p>“No!” Malfoy said. “Of course not! Everyone knows that!”</p><p>“Well, <em>I</em> didn’t know that,” Harry said, and felt warm inside for reasons he didn’t really want to try and figure out.</p><p>“It never really mattered,” Malfoy reflected.</p><p>Harry frowned. “Why wouldn’t it matter?”</p><p>“Well, before,” amended Malfoy. “I had it drilled in my head to marry a rich pureblood woman and produce an heir, you know. Obviously my parents would never have accepted Pansy before, but we used to plot out marrying each other so we could have a sham marriage and have myriad live-in lovers. Nowadays, my mother would be grateful for a Parkinson, but I’m not going to be doing any of that anymore, so I suppose it does matter now, except not really and – I’m going to stop talking now.”</p><p>“That’s a first,” Harry said.</p><p>Malfoy laughed, almost gratefully. Seven years and Harry thought maybe he had Malfoy almost figured out now.</p><p>“I have to go talk to Zabini or I think he’ll do something drastic,” Harry said, remembering. He staggered up, looking down wistfully at the warm bed and grabbed his robes out of his trunk before he moved towards the bathroom.</p><p>“What do you mean you have to talk to Blaise?” Malfoy said, sounding panicked.</p><p>“He asked me,” Harry said, closing the door before Malfoy could answer. He took a quick shower, and after he felt like a clean, hygienic human being, he opened the door into Malfoy’s face.</p><p>“I don’t think you should talk to Blaise,” Malfoy said, all in a rush.</p><p>Harry tried to move around him. “He probably just wants advice about Ginny.”</p><p>“I’ll come with, then!” said Malfoy, blocking his way.</p><p>Harry gave his creased clothes from the night before and tousled hair a skeptical look. “Maybe you want to freshen up first?”</p><p>Malfoy’s mouth fell open. “How <em>dare</em> you, you should look at your hair situation before you throw around unfounded accusations, you horrible excuse for a – ”</p><p>Harry side-stepped him and slipped out the door while Malfoy squawked, “Potter!”</p><p>He was absolutely positive Malfoy wouldn’t dare step outside their room without first fixing his hair and putting on his magic face wash, and sure enough, Malfoy didn’t follow him immediately out the door. Harry could picture him seething and plotting Harry’s demise in the bathroom. He went downstairs smiling.</p><p>Anthony was still passed out on one of the couches, but Susan was sitting next to him reading a book, so it was probably fine. Harry didn’t see Ron or Hermione, and he didn’t really want to think about what they were doing with a private room. Ginny and Luna must have gone down to breakfast, or, he thought bitterly, they hadn’t been awoken rudely by Blaise Zabini, who was lazily reclining on a sofa and flirting with Susan.</p><p>Zabini leaped up when he saw Harry and opened the door out the common room with a bow. Harry gave him a weirded-out look as Dean walked through the common room door; Blaise leered at him, and Harry gave him an awkward nod. He gave them both a half-smile, so things were fine if embarrassing.</p><p>“You should probably make this quick,” Harry said as they walked out of the door in uncomfortable silence. “Malfoy’s awake and he really wanted to be here when I told him you wanted to talk to me.”</p><p>“No idea why,” Zabini said airily. “Harry. Harry Potter. Can I call you Harry?”</p><p>“Er, sure?”</p><p>“Harry,” Zabini said with a charming smile. “Do you know why I came to Hogwarts this year?”</p><p>“To get your N.E.W.T.S?”</p><p>Zabini laughed breezily and then in the next moment seemed to become steely-eyed and serious, stopping and turning to Harry with his arms crossed. “No. I came here for Draco.”</p><p>“Er,” Harry said, coming to a halt. He looked around. They’d been going in the opposite direction from the Great Hall, presumably because Zabini wanted to chase Malfoy off for some excessively abysmal reason. <em>CONSTANT VIGILANCE! </em>Mad-Eye Moody screamed in his mind. Harry could picture how disappointed he would have been that Harry had allowed himself to be taken to an unknown location by a Slytherin.</p><p>“Draco had his heart set on staying in Britain,” Zabini said. “Oh, Narcissa tried to convince him, once <em>you</em> got them both pardoned. Said, let’s go to France, Italy, Greece, anywhere. He wouldn’t. He said he had to atone, that he didn’t want to run away anymore. When he gets his mind and heart both set on something, you see, he doesn’t give up. Well, he’d been a mess the past year.”</p><p><em>Are we still talking about Malfoy? </em>Harry almost asked.</p><p>“Pansy was in hysterics at the idea of him going to Hogwarts without any of us with him,” Zabini continued, “especially when she found out you were going to be there too. She couldn’t go, of course, completely out of the question after what she said, and she wasn’t interested anyway. And who else was there? Goyle didn’t have the Saviour of the Wizarding World to testify for him. He was in no state to come here. Crabbe is dead.”</p><p>Harry flinched but Zabini didn’t. He kept going. “Theo’s family was too affiliated with the Death Eaters. Millie’s been travelling. Daphne was going back, but you see how fickle she is, completely absorbed with her Gryffindor.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“So that left me,” Zabini said. “I’m here to look out for him. I can’t figure out where <em>you</em> come into this.”</p><p>“Oh, hey,” Harry protested, “I’m not – I’m not trying to hurt him.” Zabini looked at him coolly, but Harry had gotten some version of this talk by four different Weasley brothers and he was not the type to back down. “Did you really want to talk to me because you thought I was, what, dangerous?”</p><p>“I don’t know what you are,” Zabini said. “All I know is that you come to school and Professor McGonagall puts you in a room with Draco, which is bad enough, but you both manage to keep a cordial relationship. More than I expected. Then all of a sudden you’re best friends and you spend half your time together and I find you cuddling with each other. Maybe you can understand my confusion.”</p><p>“That’s not what happened,” Harry said. “I – ” He didn’t know how to explain, to Zabini or to Ron and Hermione. He wanted to say that Malfoy was a soft touch as soon as he thought you liked him, that he had made Harry laugh, that he never stopped talking, that he was not afraid to touch Harry easily, affectionately.</p><p>“Draco is difficult to share a room with,” Zabini said. “I know because I shared a dormitory with him for six years. Sometimes he’d stay up all night doing something ridiculous like making Potter Stinks badges, or writing lyrics for an insulting song so you would give him the time of day.”</p><p>“That’s not,” Harry said. “I don’t even. That’s. What.”</p><p>Zabini kindly ignored this and went on, “My point is that living with him is no drink in Diagon. It’s annoying.”</p><p>“I like living with him,” Harry said, very coldly.</p><p>“Are you fucking with me? Are you fucking with <em>him</em>?”</p><p>“What?” Harry said.</p><p>“Are. You. Fucking with him. Is this some sort of practical joke?”</p><p>“No.” Harry glared at him. “What do you think I am? Why would I do that?”</p><p>Zabini threw his hands up in the air dramatically. “I don’t <em>know</em>. Payback for six years of relentless bullying towards your friends? I don’t understand.”</p><p>“I like him,” Harry said, rough. “That’s all.”</p><p>Zabini stared at him for a few moments. “Oh, Merlin. It’s worse than I thought. If I could only have told myself this before. I’m sure it would have been a bright spot in a sea of darkness, or perhaps another dark spot in a sea of darkness. Either way it would have been hilarious.”</p><p>“Look, Zabini – ”</p><p>Zabini waved a hand around nonchalantly. “You can call me Blaise.”</p><p>“Er, okay,” Harry said. “Blaise. Can we get some breakfast now? I’m really hungry.”</p><p>“Oh, alright,” Blaise said, and they started towards the Great Hall. This time Harry made sure they were going in the right direction.</p><p>“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Blaise said casually, “do you think Ginevra Weasley would ever go for me?”</p><p>“Er,” Harry said, and thought that Blaise really should have been more apologetic when asking Ginny’s ex-boyfriend that question. “Possibly? If you had less of an inflated head.”</p><p>Blaise nodded seriously, as if taking note of this.</p><p>“I thought you wouldn’t ever date Ginny,” Harry said. “Because of her family.”</p><p>Blaise waved his hand around again. “That’s because back then, Harry,” he explained patiently, “insulting blood traitors was in vogue. I’ve changed my ways accordingly to cope with the new fashion.”</p><p>Harry...really could not think of a response to this. He decided to ignore it. “Well, Ginny’s not an object you get,” he said sharply. “If you like her, be honest with her. And don’t you dare hurt her. I’m sure she’d beat you to a bloody pulp and have your face covered in bat bogies if you even tried, and you’d have six brothers and me to go through after that.”</p><p>Blaise did not seem fazed by this. “I do like her,” he said, and smiled strikingly. “I’d rather not hurt her if I can manage it.”</p><p>“Ginny has a lot of people looking after her,” Harry said, “and most of all she’s got herself.”</p><p>Blaise laughed and swung an arm over Harry’s shoulder. “Duly noted. You know, you’re alright, Harry Potter.”</p><p>“You’re alright too,” Harry said.</p><p>────────────</p><p>September had whittled away before he knew it, red-gold leaves crunching under his feet when he went to visit Hagrid wearing his Weasley jumpers for warmth. He started sitting with Malfoy in Charms and Potions. Listening to him was a lot more interesting than listening to lessons. They went down to meals together when he wasn’t with Ron and Hermione, or when Malfoy wasn’t with Blaise and Daphne. The days had gone by until the Halloween decorations were being put up, and Peeves was loudly singing insulting parodies of traditional wizarding Halloween songs in the corridors between classes, until it was the night before the day his parents had been murdered.</p><p>He couldn’t sleep that night, but when he looked over, Malfoy was asleep, mumbling a load of gibberish and breathing softly, sleeping on his back in a starfish position like he’d always needed to fill up a too-big bed. Harry didn’t want to wake him up. He creeped out of the room instead, downstairs to the empty common room, and sat in one of the armchairs by the fireplace with his legs pulled up. Malfoy would have said he was brooding.</p><p>Maybe he was brooding a little bit. He hadn’t known his parents had died on Halloween for the longest time. The Dursleys had never seen fit to tell him. And he’d never thought about it much at Hogwarts before. Every Halloween feast, or Death Day Party, had been memorable. He’d been happy.</p><p>Now he had seen their graves for the first time, seen the home they had picked out, seen the life they could have had. <em>James and Lily Potter, died October 31st, 1981. </em>He was three years away from being the same age as them when they’d died.</p><p>His eyes prickled uncomfortably. He was grateful when the door opened and Parvati Patil walked out with a basket in her arms. She was wearing a red and gold negligee and looked very pretty, despite the dark circles under her eyes.</p><p>“Hi, Harry,” she said, walking over to him. “Can I sit here?” When he nodded, she sat down in the chair across from him. If she was surprised to see him she didn’t show it.</p><p>Harry thought he should have been upset that she was here, but he wasn’t. It felt good to know that he wasn’t the only person who couldn’t sleep, that most of them had nightmares. It felt like he wasn’t alone. He nodded towards the basket and asked, “What’s in there?”</p><p>“Oh,” Parvati said. She rummaged through the basket and came out with a piece of what looked like a sweet, with almonds inside it. “When I can’t sleep I go to the kitchens to ask the house elves for <em>mithai</em> sometimes. It’s an Indian sweet. Not as good as my mother’s, but.” She shrugged. “Do you want some?”</p><p>Harry took two and they sat in comfortable silence for a few moments before Parvati yawned and went upstairs. He stared at the last sweet in his hand after she’d gone upstairs. He wondered if his father’s family had been Indian. He didn’t know. He didn’t know what he was.</p><p>“I <em>knew </em>you would be here moping,” Malfoy’s voice said crossly.</p><p>Harry startled and turned around to see him, with his hair sticking up in his pyjamas. “What are you doing?”</p><p>“Looking for you,” Malfoy said, “obviously.” He took Parvati’s empty seat and raised an eyebrow, crossing his legs at the ankles.</p><p>“You were sleeping,” Harry said.</p><p>“And now I’m not. Isn’t it fascinating how that works?”</p><p>Harry rolled his eyes gratefully. “I just – I don’t know if you know – ”</p><p>“I know what day it is,” Malfoy said, voice unreadable.</p><p>Harry hugged his knees and looked down. “It’s just a day. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s really – it’s only that I’ve realised how little I actually know about them. And there’s only two people in the world left who knew them well, at least as far as I know, and I don’t know if they’d know everything I want to ask. They used to have a cat, and I don’t know where it went. I don’t know how they celebrated Christmas or birthdays. I don’t know what – what their favourite songs were, what Quidditch teams they rooted for, how they fell in love. I don’t even know where my father’s family was <em>from</em>! And I can’t ever ask them, or their friends, and it’s so stupid.”</p><p>That was more than he’d meant to say. He chanced half a glance at Malfoy, waiting for him to run away screaming.</p><p>“Pakistan,” Malfoy said at last.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“The Potters originated from Pakistan but they settled in Britain ages ago. Your grandfather, Fleamont Potter, bit of an unfortunate name, really, got famous and increased the family gold off hair potions. He married your grandmother, Euphemia Shafiq, after graduation. The Potters weren’t ever on the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but the Shafiqs were, so despite all that prattle about equality and blood status, it was a coup for Fleamont. There are a couple of Potters related to the Malfoys, very distantly, and the Blacks, too; Dorea Black and Charles Potter come to mind. Your father’s favourite Quidditch team were the Wimbourne Wasps, excellent choice in my opinion. If I’m not mistaken, your mother supported the Appleby Arrows, and you know, there was a bitter rivalry between the two teams so that’s – ”</p><p>Harry stared at him. “How do you know that?”</p><p>“You’re <em>famous</em>, you idiot,” Malfoy said. “There are books about the Potters, about lots of wizarding families, but after – well, after, everyone was clambering to write autobiographies and publish tell-all’s about the family of The Boy Who Lived. If you read anything other than Quidditch Through the Ages you’d know that. Most of the Hogwarts class of 1978 either died or were in the hospital or tortured or were Death Eaters, but some of them managed to survive, and they shared their knowledge of James and Lily Potter when they’d been at school. One book had commentary from one of their fellow Gryffindors, who reported the Quidditch teams. I bet we could track down some of those students, you know, they’d have no choice but to help Harry Potter – you can use your celebrity for manipulation – ”</p><p>“Malfoy,” Harry interrupted, and he subsided into silence.</p><p>“Sorry,” he said. “That was probably too much.”</p><p>“Too <em>much</em>?” Harry repeated. “No, I – Malfoy,” he said again, quieter. “Thanks.”</p><p>Malfoy looked surprised. “You’re welcome.”</p><p>“I’m not using my celebrity for manipulation, though,” Harry said.</p><p>“Your celebrity is wasted on you,” Malfoy mourned.</p><p>“And – ” Harry tried not to smile. “Why do you know so much about my family tree?”</p><p>Malfoy looked shifty. “I just told you.”</p><p>“No, you just said there were books written about the Potters. Did you read them? You knew my ancestors by name.”</p><p>“No,” Malfoy denied, “I – stop <em>grinning</em> you fool. I absorbed information by <em>osmosis</em>. I had to learn all pureblood family genealogy. I can tell you the name of Terry Boot’s third aunt, and Susan Bones’s cousin, and Longbottom’s great-grandfather.”</p><p>“Did you also absorb information about my parents’ Quidditch preferences by osmosis, then?”</p><p>“No, I,” Malfoy said. “I didn’t want to have to do this.”</p><p>“What?” Harry said, amused.</p><p>“I didn’t want to have to admit it,” Malfoy told him solemnly, “but there’s something you should know, Potter. Daphne – was obsessed with you.”</p><p>Harry started laughing.</p><p>“You can laugh,” Malfoy said, voice rising and mouth twitching, “but it’s true. Before she came to Hogwarts, she read all the books about you, and talked about you constantly. That was before she met you and realised you were nothing but a disfigured disappointment with dreadful hair and vision problems, of course.”</p><p>“I don’t think I ever met Daphne before this year,” Harry mused.</p><p>“That simply proves my – Daphne’s point. However, she talked about you constantly, and so we all had to suffer through her knowledge, and now we have it memorised. I’m sure Blaise knows your genealogy too. We all did. She couldn’t help herself.”</p><p>“I see,” Harry said. “Well, in that case, I’m sorry I was so disappointing. To Daphne.”</p><p>“You,” Malfoy said, sounding strangled. “Oh, just – come on. Let’s go to bed. You’re ruining my beauty sleep.”</p><p>“<em>I </em>didn’t tell you to wake up,” Harry said, but he followed Malfoy up to their room, and fell asleep smiling.</p><p>In the morning, Ron and Hermione stayed by his side and Malfoy sang Muggle Halloween songs while insulting his hair and Ginny hexed anyone that asked him probing, personal questions about his parents. He thought about slipping away after dinner to visit their graves, but in the end he just looked through the photo book Hagrid had given him and hoped that wherever they were, they were happy, and that they would have wanted him to be happy too.</p><p>He thought maybe he almost was.</p><p>────────────</p><p>Usually when Malfoy had nightmares Harry was already awake.</p><p>This one was different. He knew it as soon as he stirred: heard Malfoy’s covers being thrown off, the bathroom door being opened, the splash of water. He sat up, cross-legged, and when Malfoy came out the bathroom, looking sick, he didn’t seem surprised to see Harry.</p><p>Malfoy didn’t go back to his bed or to his desk. He slunk down to the floor in front of his bed and put his head in his hands. Harry waited, and came hesitantly to sit next to him, leaning against the back of Malfoy’s bed. The room was hushed and no one else was awake, but the birds were singing outside, their window cracked open despite the chilly November weather, because Harry got hot at night and Malfoy slept with millions of blankets.</p><p>“You never asked me,” Malfoy said eventually, not moving his hands, voice muffled.</p><p>Harry looked at him because he wouldn’t see. “Asked you what?”</p><p>“If I’m glad you won.”</p><p>They hadn’t talked about this yet. There was a lot to not talk about. They’d talked about the war, even though Harry didn’t usually talk about the war with anyone: Snape and Dumbledore cautiously, treading careful ground. But mostly they talked about things like the Snatchers they’d been most terrified of, Malfoy’s mother curling her hand tightly around his shoulder when Fenrir Greyback came, the cliffs at Shell Cottage and Dobby’s body in a grave, Nagini in Malfoy’s house, the hunger and loneliness, watching the snow fall on Harry’s parents’ graves.</p><p>“I know you are,” Harry said, watching the nape of Malfoy’s neck, his hair silver in the dark.</p><p>Malfoy looked up wildly, and Harry looked away.</p><p>“I’m not trying to,” Harry said, and stopped. “I mean, it’s complicated, but I saw flashes of what Voldemort was doing, and I saw you, and. You didn’t look glad. And when you Disarmed Dumbledore – ” His voice stumbled. “You didn’t seem like you wanted to, and I saw your wand lower – ”</p><p>Malfoy began, pale, “How do you know – ”</p><p>“I was there,” Harry said, awkwardly. “I – under the Invisibility Cloak.”</p><p>“Of course you were. It remains a comfort to know you’ve been a witness to every single awful moment of my life,” Malfoy said.</p><p>“That’s not,” Harry said, and couldn’t finish.</p><p>“I am glad, you know,” Malfoy said, sounding vicious. “I’m glad it ended this way. My family name is dirt and my father’s in Azkaban and I’m <em>glad</em>. Not because I think it’s morally right or anything, but because <em>I</em> didn’t feel safe before. What does that make me?”</p><p>“Human,” Harry said, and Malfoy let out a breath like he’d been holding it in for ages, shuddering until Harry couldn’t stand it anymore and he was clumsily pulling Malfoy into his arms.</p><p>And he didn’t know how to do this, no one had ever taught him how to do this. He only knew how to hurt Malfoy. But he wrapped his arms around Malfoy’s back and tucked his head into the crook of Malfoy’s neck. He tried to be tender the way Malfoy had been tender with him. He breathed in and out until Malfoy was breathing in and out with him, holding on so tightly it hurt.</p><p>“What are we <em>doing</em>?” Malfoy asked into his shoulder, laughing a bit.</p><p>Harry shrugged, half-smiling. He felt Malfoy pull away, and looked at the ground when Malfoy rubbed his sleeve over his eyes.</p><p>“Obviously I still mostly hate you,” Malfoy said, voice uneven and hoarse.</p><p>“Oh, obviously,” Harry agreed.</p><p>“And I’m not – I don’t understand why you – I’m not good at this like you. I’m not <em>good</em> like you. You know who I am, so why are you still here?”</p><p>“Morbid curiosity,” said Harry and watched him laugh. He didn’t ask what Malfoy’s nightmare had been about.</p><p>“I’m trying to make up for it,” Malfoy told him, and Harry said, “I know.”</p><p>Malfoy tugged down his sleeve and his shirt shifted down, and Harry saw the first white scar, stark against his skin, from his throat and going down in a wicked arc –</p><p>His hand had moved to touch it without him realizing.</p><p>“<em>Don’t</em>,” Malfoy said sharply.</p><p>Harry pulled his hand away. “Sorry,” he whispered. “Is that – ”</p><p>“Most of the scarring healed,” Malfoy said, voice distant.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Harry said again, and felt gut-wrenchingly awful. He had not even thought about it – he had not even cared – he remembered the blood on the bathroom floor and Malfoy gasping and dying, that feeling in his chest like he was falling, dropping to his knees. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to.”</p><p>He swallowed. Like that was some kind of excuse.</p><p>“I know you didn’t mean to,” Malfoy said. He was not looking at Harry.</p><p>“I,” Harry said helplessly, and Malfoy seemed to sag all at once, turning to him and reaching out to clasp one of Harry’s hands in his own distractedly. Harry blinked in surprise, but Malfoy didn’t seem to notice. He was a touchy person. He always had been. It had just never been directed at Harry.</p><p>“You idiot,” Malfoy said, gently. “It is what it is. You almost killed me and then you saved my life. It’s alright.”</p><p>Harry could not stop looking at the scar, the dip of Malfoy’s collarbone. “It’s not alright.”</p><p>“I was trying to <em>Crucio </em>you,” said Malfoy.</p><p>“That doesn’t excuse – ”</p><p>Malfoy’s thumb moved in a reassuring pattern along Harry’s palm before he let go. “I said it’s alright.”</p><p>“Okay,” Harry said, and they sat for a few more moments before he noticed Malfoy nodding off and hauled them both off to bed.</p><p>To separate beds.</p><p>────────────</p><p>The week before Christmas holidays, they all ended up gathered in the common room, working on homework or playing chess or in Harry’s case, sitting in a chair with Malfoy perched on its arm. He was listening to Malfoy complain about his History of Magic class. His feet were in Harry’s lap and Harry was tracing a circle around his slender ankle, because he wanted to and by some miracle Malfoy wasn’t pushing him away.</p><p>“I’m going home, of course,” Anthony was saying, watching Ron and Justin play chess against Neville and Seamus absently. “I don’t celebrate Christmas, though.” Here there was a general chorus of, “Me neither,” from a few others. “There’s Hanukkah, of course,” went on Anthony. “Mostly my parents want me home.”</p><p>“Whose don’t?” Dean said. He was watching the game of chess too, but mostly he was watching Seamus. “My parents didn’t want me coming back at all.”</p><p>“I’d rather not go,” said Susan, looking very unhappy. “There’s only my parents and I left, and we’ve been a mess lately – ”</p><p>“I’d rather stay, too,” Parvati agreed, looking at Daphne Greengrass, who was writing an essay and checking it against <em>Theories of Transubstantial Transfiguration. </em></p><p>“No chance of that,” her sister said, looking up from her book and giving Parvati a meaningful glance.</p><p>Hermione was talking to Terry about their Ancient Runes homework but Harry could feel her gaze drifting up towards him and Malfoy constantly. He couldn’t really bring himself to care.</p><p>Malfoy was going home for the holidays. His mother had come back from France to be with him. Harry was going back, too, even though he and Ginny knew how awkward it would be, and even though Ginny said it would give Molly the wrong idea. He was going for Ron, because Hermione said she couldn’t risk not staying with her parents, who were still furious at her and had patches in their memories.</p><p>He didn’t want to think about being apart from Malfoy, how this tentative friendship could fall apart and they’d come back unsure of each other.</p><p>“I told Binns he needed to change his lesson plans in <em>fourth year</em>,” Malfoy ranted, “and did he listen to me? No. Do you know how many people are taking his N.E.W.T class? Five! And I don’t think he’s even noticed!”</p><p>“I can’t believe you like History of Magic,” Harry said, amused.</p><p>“It’s a good class,” said Malfoy defensively. “And if you’d known before, you would have laughed at me.”</p><p>“I am laughing at you,” Harry said, grinning.</p><p>“That’s because you’re a tosser,” Malfoy told him primly, and poked Harry with his foot.</p><p>“Hey,” said Harry, still grinning.</p><p>“Draco,” Hermione said loudly, moving her chair over towards them, “have you finished the Ancient Runes homework?”</p><p>Malfoy nearly fell off the arm of Harry’s chair in surprise; Harry grabbed hold of his ankle securely before he did.</p><p>“Um,” Malfoy said, straightening, looking apprehensive and eager, “I did, yes.”</p><p>What followed was a complicated conversation about question 3b that Harry could not hope to follow at all, but apparently Terry and Hermione had disagreed on the answer. Hermione’s questions to Malfoy were stilted and stiff, and Malfoy was jumpy and careful, but otherwise things seemed to be going well. When they segued into a conversation about Latin, Harry started to get bored and cheered on Ron and Justin in their game of chess, his hand still on Malfoy’s ankle.</p><p>“I mean, all spells have got a Latin origin,” Hermione said. “It’s frankly irresponsible not to learn Latin <em>at</em> school.”</p><p>“Squash that pawn, Ron. Oh – damn.”</p><p>“The thing is that a lot of pureblood families do teach their children Latin,” said Malfoy, “mine did. So they do have that advantage coming to school, and since a great deal of the school governors are pureblood, and even the teachers, they don’t think about how it would be helpful for Muggleborn and half-blood children. And even if it’s helpful for them, a great deal of the pureblood children would be dead bored in that class, it’s a bit of a bind – ”</p><p>“You’ll get em next time, Seamus.”</p><p>“Oi, fuck you, Harry.”</p><p>“Been there, done that.”</p><p>“Oh, do <em>not</em>.”</p><p>“That’s true,” Hermione said, reluctantly, as if she didn’t want to admit Malfoy had a point. “It’s an example of the prejudice that most people don’t tend to think about, but it’s important – ”</p><p>“Exactly,” Malfoy agreed enthusiastically. “I mean, even the school motto is in Latin.”</p><p>Harry came back to the conversation to grin at Malfoy and say, “Oh, yeah, doesn’t it have your name in it?”</p><p>Hermione looked resigned. “That’s what you remember about it?”</p><p>“It does have my name,” Malfoy said smugly, turning to him.</p><p>“<em>Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus,</em>” Hermione recited. “Never tickle a sleeping dragon.”</p><p>Malfoy preened. “I don’t see <em>your </em>name in the school motto, Potter.”</p><p>“Never tickle a sleeping dragon,” repeated Harry, and then, “Never tickle a sleeping <em>Draco.</em>” He started laughing.</p><p>“I <em>hate </em>you,” Malfoy said, digging his foot into Harry’s thigh, “you ruin everything, you are the <em>worst</em>.”</p><p>Harry tried to catch Malfoy’s foot and tickle it, and Malfoy screeched and pushed him away, nearly toppling over the chair in the process. The rest of the common room was watching them, but they seemed almost as resigned as Hermione had been.</p><p>Harry gave up in order to let Malfoy be lulled into a false sense of security. When they went to bed that night he put his plan in action: he waited until he heard Malfoy’s breathing even out and he tip-toed out of bed towards Malfoy, and tickled his stomach.</p><p>Malfoy screamed bloody murder and started laughing hysterically, which made Harry start laughing hysterically, at least until Malfoy aimed a kick at him that sent him sprawling to the floor.</p><p>“What is wrong with you?” Malfoy shouted, still laughing even though Harry wasn’t tickling him anymore and tossing a pillow at him that Harry caught with six years of Seeker’s reflexes.</p><p>“I just wanted to know,” Harry said between gasps of laughter, “what would happen...if you tickled...a sleeping Draco.”</p><p>The second pillow hit him right in the face.</p><p>He was thinking about it during the Christmas party Blaise and Parvati and Seamus had insisted on throwing the day before everyone was set to leave, bright Christmas lights hung on the walls. He was thinking about Malfoy’s face split in an honest smile, how he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to sleep without Malfoy in the same room as him, now.</p><p>“Look,” he said quietly, in the corner of the common room when everyone was saying goodbye, handing each other presents and wrapping scarves around their necks. Parvati Patil was kissing Daphne Greengrass under a sprig of mistletoe while her sister and Blaise catcalled at them. “I’ll be at the Weasleys’ all break, and.” He hesitated. “Write to me, okay?”</p><p>“Okay,” Malfoy said.</p><p>“And I’ve got something for you,” Harry told him, handing him a present in green wrapping paper. It was a book about Curse-Breaking that Malfoy had been talking about all month; he’d gotten it from Tomes and Scrolls when he, Ron, and Hermione had gone to Hogsmeade, and Daphne had wrapped the book for him in exchange for the chance to threaten him about hurting Malfoy.</p><p>Malfoy’s face did something strange, and he took out a sophisticatedly wrapped present in red that was very obviously a book. “Me too.”</p><p>“Oh,” Harry said, and laughed.</p><p>Malfoy was smiling his tiny, sincere smile, the one Harry used to think was a smirk. “Thanks, Potter.”</p><p>Harry grinned back. “Yeah, you too.”</p><p>────────────</p><p>He didn’t sulk or fucking pine away for Malfoy, or anything. He just kept expecting to see Malfoy’s bright hair, feel his elbow on Harry’s shoulder, hear his voice. To his chagrin, Harry kept humming the Dirty Dancing soundtrack, though the Burrow was loud enough that no one had yet caught on.</p><p>The Burrow was always loud. But there was something, someone, missing and they were all trying too hard to make up for it.</p><p>Harry couldn’t help but feel like if he’d been better, smarter, quicker, Fred – Fred would still be here.</p><p>He tried to help as best as he could. He sat with Arthur and showed him how to use a Muggle telly. He helped Molly prepare dinner and set the table with Percy. He got drunk with Ron and George as George turned to inventing in his grief, finishing every idea Fred had ever had with trembling hands. He dragged Charlie into conversations to keep him away from Molly asking about his love life. He asked Bill questions about Curse-Breaking without mentioning Malfoy’s name, and listened to Fleur talk about potential baby names with a hand on her stomach, glowing with happiness. He stayed with Ron most of all, standing by him and making sure he was alright, because Ron so often worried about his family over himself.</p><p>Ginny had been right to worry about her mother – Molly pushed them together at every opportunity. Harry knew she just wanted a little bit of happiness, but both of them were losing their patience by the time they’d been sent to wash the dishes after dinner and Molly had shooed everyone else away.</p><p>“She thinks we just need some time alone and we’ll get back together!” Ginny raged once Molly had left the kitchen. “And we don’t even need to clean the dishes, we can use magic, it’ll take five minutes.” She waved her wand and the soap and water began to move of their own accord, scrubbing the dishes while Ginny watched on darkly.</p><p>“I’ll talk to her,” Harry said.</p><p>“No, it’s – ” Ginny sighed. “I think that would make it worse. Maybe I’ll bring Zabini over here, that would make her stop.”</p><p>“Are you <em>considering</em> that?” said Harry, grinning. “<em>Gin.</em>”</p><p>“Do not say a word,” Ginny warned. “You’re the one all chummy with Draco Malfoy these days, he’s sending <em>letters</em> to our <em>house</em> – ”</p><p>“That is a completely different situation.”</p><p>“Is it,” Ginny said, arching her eyebrows at him.</p><p>She was beautiful, Harry thought all of a sudden. In the kitchen light with her hair tied back messily and her bare, freckled stomach exposed by her shirt, flannel tied around her waist. And part of him would always love her. It wasn’t like sleeping with Seamus or kissing any of those boys and girls in the Muggle clubs they’d gone to had cancelled that out. If ever the time was to get back together with her, it was now. But they had tried, and it hadn’t worked, had just made them upset and angry. And Ginny didn’t want to, and neither did he. If he had wanted to, he wouldn’t hesitate.</p><p>“Hello, earth to Harry,” Ginny said. “You look awfully maudlin. Are you in love with Malfoy?”</p><p>“What,” Harry said, alarmed. “No. <em>No.</em>”</p><p>Ginny laughed. “Okay.”</p><p>“Are <em>you</em> in love with Blaise?” Harry shot back.</p><p>Ginny laughed again, but her ears had gone red. “I missed you.”</p><p>“I’m here,” Harry said, even though he knew what she meant.</p><p>“I’m glad,” said Ginny, and threw her arms around him.</p><p>“Me too,” Harry said into her shoulder.</p><p>In love with Malfoy, he thought at night, throwing his blankets aside and looking over at where Ron was snoring, hand curled around the letter Hermione had sent this morning.</p><p>A ridiculous, ludicrous idea.</p><p>He gave up on sleeping and started writing a reply to Malfoy’s letter, the one that had arrived in the morning detailing all of Malfoy’s Christmas holiday exploits, which mostly consisted of: <em>sitting awkwardly with my mother in the room the Dark Lord used to kill people in while we talk about everything that is nothing at all, I swear I’m losing my mind, Potter. </em></p><p>He usually replied to Malfoy’s letters at night, because it meant there was no chance of Dungbombs going off or Percy stealing his quill or Weasleys peering over his shoulder to read what he’d written. Malfoy’s letters were pages and pages long. They had a million loops and terrible jokes, and at least a paragraph was taken up each letter lamenting Harry’s unfortunate handwriting.</p><p>Harry wrote about Mrs Weasley trying to get him and Ginny back together, and Ginny’s evasive responses re: Blaise, and the guilt and grief they all shared. He sent it off in the morning, with his and Ron’s letter to Hermione.</p><p>It was a good Christmas, if weird and different than any other holidays Harry had spent with the Weasleys. He opened Malfoy’s present last; it was a book about the Potters, dating from the early sixteenth century, with glossy pictures of influential family members. Harry flipped to the end to see his father, smiling roguishly up at him with bright hazel eyes, and his mother on the next page, rolling her eyes in his father’s direction and smirking. The last page was him, a post-war picture of him accepting his Order of Merlin, First Class. Harry had been annoyed at the press for showing up then and hadn’t cared much about the award either, and you could tell. He looked unhappy and curled up in himself, shoulders slumping and eyes searching, he knew, for Ron and Hermione. He stared at it for a long time, and went back to study the rest of the pictures of his family. He didn’t know how to thank Malfoy.</p><p>For New Year’s, Andromeda Tonks came over with little Teddy Lupin, who spent the whole time waddling after Harry. Harry tried to be good with him, tried to be patient with Teddy the way no one had ever been patient with him.</p><p>When Teddy’s hair started turning steadily blacker, Andromeda said, smiling, “He likes you a lot.”</p><p>“I like him more,” Harry said, letting Teddy clutch his pinky and planting a kiss in his hair as he enacted a play for Harry involving two potatoes that George had given him.</p><p>Ginny kissed Harry when the countdown finished – “For old times’ sake,” she said, smiling against his mouth, “and also to see that look on Percy’s face.”</p><p>Harry thought irrationally of what Malfoy was doing for New Year’s, whether it was just him and his mother, which it must have been. Andromeda and Teddy were related to Malfoy, too. He wondered if they’d met.</p><p>He was glad when the holidays came to an end and he, Ron, and Ginny Apparated into Hogsmeade and walked towards the castle, bundled up in cloaks and Warming Charms.</p><p>“McGonagall could’ve set up her Floo for us again,” Ron said bitterly as they trudged through the snow, but Harry saw his shoulders settle down as soon as he saw the castle’s looming towers. Hermione had said she was coming back today too.</p><p>Harry hadn’t expected coming back to be the same as it had been every year he’d come back before, but like always, coming back to Hogwarts felt like coming home. He felt himself go still and peaceful, too, at least until he thought about Malfoy.</p><p>Harry did not say anything; it felt as though Hermione’s conjured canaries were flapping around in his stomach. Ginny cast a look at him, her hat pulled over her hair and her cheeks pink from the cold, but she didn’t say anything when they separated to their different common rooms.</p><p>Malfoy was waiting outside of the eighth year common room, arguing with Daphne about something. Harry was struck suddenly with the disconnect from Malfoy at the beginning of this year, shrinking in on himself, too skinny and sallow, and the Malfoy who had now caught sight of Harry and had trailed off in his tangent to Daphne to break into a smile.</p><p>Harry smiled back. He didn’t know how anyone could have done anything else.</p><p>“Oh, I thought you were Parvati from faraway,” Daphne said, disgruntled. “Welcome back, Potter, Weasley.”</p><p>“Thanks, I think. Hermione’s not – ”</p><p>“Not yet,” Daphne told Ron, and turned to go back inside the common room.</p><p>“Hello,” Malfoy said, still smiling. “You idiot, you’ve got snow in your hair.”</p><p>“Cheers,” Harry said, grinning back and shoving his hands in his pockets so he didn’t do something stupid like grab Malfoy by his robes and steer him inside so they could fall asleep on his bed.</p><p>“I’ll meet you inside, then, Harry,” Ron said loudly.</p><p>Harry blinked and saw him go inside with the password Daphne had said before. Then it was just him and Malfoy standing in front of the door.</p><p>Malfoy touched his hair lightly, brushing snow off, and took hold of the crook of his elbow. “Didn’t you wear a hat?”</p><p>“Nah, I’m too irresponsible,” Harry said, and rested his head against Malfoy’s shoulder and felt himself breathe, in, out.</p><p>He didn’t think anything of it, that the feeling when he’d seen Malfoy was the same feeling he’d gotten when he’d seen Hogwarts. Not immediately. Not on the first day, when everyone was greeting each other and hugging and making fun of new haircuts. Not when Hermione came through the door with snow on her eyelashes and Ron spun her around and kissed her delightedly, or when Dean and Seamus came inside the common room holding hands and beaming. He didn’t even think about it that night, when he and Malfoy stayed up talking until their eyes were drooping and they’d passed out. He didn’t think about it the next day in class, sleeping on Malfoy’s shoulder and kicking each other’s ankles until Flitwick noticed. He did think, <em>I missed this</em>, and maybe he was close, almost there, to figuring it out: like he was at the edge of a cliff and he was ready to jump, but someone had pulled him back by his sleeve before he had the chance. Malfoy sneezed, and he’d forgotten what he’d been thinking about at all.</p><p>He didn’t think about it when they all headed down to the first official Hogsmeade trip of the new year and pretended that they hadn’t all been sneaking out to Hogsmeade whenever they wanted, and that they didn’t have a stash of Butterbeer and Firewhiskey and Honeydukes chocolate hidden in Hermione and Padma’s room.</p><p>At the start of the year, they would have been in their separate groups, with members of the D.A. mingling in and out. A dozen inter-house parties later, Harry now walked next to Malfoy, with Ron and Hermione in front of him; Blaise, Dean, Seamus, and Terry somewhere behind; the Patil twins, Daphne, and Anthony heading into Madam Puddifoot’s.</p><p>The wind kept blowing Harry’s hair into his face and his hands were numb despite the fact that he was wearing gloves Hermione had knitted because Ron had forced them upon him. But he was talking aimlessly to Malfoy, ducking in and out of shops and coming out with bags full of Acid Pops (because Malfoy actually liked them) and sugar quills and a tenth-anniversary edition of Quidditch Through the Ages that made Malfoy cackle and buy on the spot. So he didn’t mind, at least until Malfoy came to a halt beside the Three Broomsticks.</p><p>Ron and Hermione had gone a little farther ahead, so Harry stopped too.</p><p>“Do you want to go in?” he asked.</p><p>“Um,” Malfoy said, chewing on his lip, “that’s not...I don’t think that would be a good idea.”</p><p>Harry frowned. “Why?”</p><p>“Because – because the rest of the Slytherins are in there,” said Malfoy. “We haven’t seen each other in a while, and you don’t exactly get on particularly well with any of them.”</p><p>“I get on with Blaise.”</p><p>“I’m aware,” Malfoy said darkly. “Still. Slytherins. You. Bad idea.”</p><p>“The Sorting Hat almost put me in Slytherin,” Harry said thoughtfully, even though he hadn’t even told Ron and Hermione that.</p><p>The look on Malfoy’s face was priceless and absolutely worth it and Harry had to work hard not to start laughing. “I don’t believe you. Impossible. I will march up to the school and demand to know the truth from the Sorting Hat. You wouldn’t have lasted a <em>day </em>in Slytherin.”</p><p>Harry looked at the door and made a decision on the spot. “I’ll prove I can last at least an hour with Slytherins and then you have to believe me.”</p><p>“You’d last a <em>minute</em>.”</p><p>“I’ll come with you,” Harry insisted. “Er, if you want me to.”</p><p>Malfoy chewed on his lip again and said, “If I <em>want </em>you to. You idiot. Fine, I’m not going to try to convince you not to, I knew telling you something was a bad idea would just make you want to do it. Just <em>stay</em> here, I’ll be right back.” And he dashed inside while Harry watched on, bemused.</p><p>Malfoy took so long inside that Harry began to wonder if he had been eaten by the Slytherins, but at that point he came back out. He looked both fairly harassed and faintly pleased, with his hair ruffled, but he grabbed Harry by his elbow and steered him inside, still muttering about how it was impossible! Impossible that Harry could ever have been in Slytherin. Impossible!</p><p>Harry’s glasses immediately started clouding up in the warm atmosphere of The Three Broomsticks. Malfoy took them off and murmured a spell before handing them back to Harry, clearer than they’d been in probably a year, and continuing dragging Harry towards a secluded booth in the corner.</p><p>“Look,” Malfoy said, very fast, as they maneuvered around crowds of people, “I know you don’t like them, and honestly most of them hate you, but only Theo and Goyle were ever really involved with the Death Eaters, and they served their time in Azkaban after the Dementors were removed, so – and Pansy, I know what she said, and I’m sorry about that, but she probably isn’t – and you’ll probably like Millie the best – we should go back – oh, God, we’re here.”</p><p>Malfoy’s grip on Harry’s elbow got much tighter as they made their way towards the booth around a table with a great deal of drinks. There was Blaise on one side, sitting next to Daphne and a black boy Harry didn’t recognise; Gregory Goyle was next to Blaise, beside him a figure he thought was Millicent Bulstrode, and an Asian girl with cropped hair that he vaguely remembered as being Pansy Parkinson.</p><p>“Potter,” Malfoy said, taking a deep breath. “Since you probably only remember half of these people, that’s Blaise, Daphne, Theo, Greg, Millie, and Pansy.”</p><p>“Er, hello,” Harry said, and had some sudden doubts about this plan.</p><p>“This is much worse than I thought,” said Pansy Parkinson. She turned to Blaise and Daphne accusingly. “You have let the situation get completely out of control.”</p><p>“It isn’t <em>our</em> fault,” Blaise protested. “Hello, Harry.”</p><p>“You’re on a first-name basis with him,” despaired Pansy.</p><p>“<em>He</em> is right here,” Malfoy said pointedly. “Shove over, Pans.” Malfoy slid in next to Pansy, smiling at her affectionately, and Harry followed him uncertainly.</p><p>They sat in awkward silence while Blaise whistled until Malfoy cleared his throat meaningfully.</p><p>“Right,” Pansy said, and took a sip of her drink before she seemed to steel herself. “Potter. My sincerest apologies for offering you up to the Dark Lord in return for the lives of hundreds of other schoolchildren. I’m glad you live to scowl another day.”</p><p>“Not like that,” Malfoy hissed, sounding betrayed.</p><p>And, well, Harry had never liked any of these people, but they were Malfoy’s friends, and Malfoy clearly liked them. “It’s alright,” he said to Pansy doubtfully. “I. Er. Get why that would be a reasonable thing to do.”</p><p>“Oh yes, very reasonable, you did it to yourself,” Malfoy muttered, rolling his eyes.</p><p>“It was reasonable,” Pansy agreed.</p><p>“Pans,” Blaise said in an undertone, aiming a smile over at Harry. Malfoy stiffened beside him. “Harry. How is Miss Weasley?”</p><p>“Oh, not this again,” Daphne complained. “Get a life, Blaise, before you started mooning over Ginny you were interesting.”</p><p>“Ginny,” repeated Pansy incredulously.</p><p>Harry scowled, opening his mouth, but Daphne said, “She’s a bit like you, Pans, I quite like her.”</p><p>“Oh, and I suppose this has nothing to do with Parvati Patil,” Theodore Nott murmured.</p><p>“You <em>are </em>doing well for yourself, aren’t you, Queenie?” Pansy said, smirking. “Sharing a room with a Gryffindor.”</p><p>“Er, Blaise and Malfoy are sharing rooms with Gryffindors, too,” Harry felt the need to point out.</p><p>“Not like <em>that</em>,” Malfoy said again, turning pink.</p><p>Blaise sighed. “I <em>wish</em>.”</p><p>“With <em>Dean</em>?” Harry said, laughing a bit. “Really?”</p><p>“Before I realised my passion for Miss Weasley,” Blaise assured him.</p><p>Millicent Bulstrode snorted, looking up from her drink, and said, “<em>Passion</em>, you’re a tool, Blaise.”</p><p>“It’s true,” Blaise said. “I admit, I saw it as fate, or destiny, that Dean Thomas and I were to share a room. However, he clearly held affection for another.”</p><p>“How’d you figure that out?” Harry said, thinking of Seamus.</p><p>Blaise raised an eyebrow. “Am I wrong?”</p><p>“I dunno,” Harry said, not wanting to give anything away. It was Dean’s business.</p><p>“Didn’t you two snog at that first party?” Daphne said.</p><p>Malfoy grabbed a glass of Butterbeer and started to drink. Harry cursed the Hogwarts rumour mill and said, “Well, it isn’t me that Dean likes, if he likes anyone.”</p><p>“How did you manage that, though?” Blaise asked interestedly, leaning over. “Was it your own natural charm?”</p><p>Harry laughed.</p><p>“I cannot believe we are talking about Potter’s charm instead of his lack thereof,” Malfoy announced, looking down at his drink and not at Harry or Blaise.</p><p>“Oh, you’re one to talk,” Nott said.</p><p>“Wait, Potter dated Ginny Weasley too,” Pansy said. She started cackling. “<em>Potter </em>has more game than you, Blaise. <em>Potter</em>.”</p><p>“I don’t care,” Blaise proclaimed, “I’ve given my heart away. Although I would appreciate some tips.”</p><p>“Yeah, you’re not going to get any,” said Harry.</p><p>“I don’t see this ending well,” Goyle said, mostly directed towards the table. Harry jumped a bit to hear him speak, thought of fire and Malfoy coughing out, “Crabbe,” as soon as he could speak.</p><p>“Me neither,” Daphne said, vastly entertained.</p><p>“Blaise doesn’t know anything about love,” Malfoy agreed.</p><p>“<em>Au contraire</em>,” replied Blaise, looking wounded. “You are bastards, truly.”</p><p>After that, talking to the Slytherins was fairly easy, except for with Pansy, who still seemed baffled that he was here at all. Well, until Malfoy went up to get more drinks, and Goyle looked at Pansy, who nodded once, and stood up to help before Harry could. Malfoy looked at Harry with a slightly panicked look that Harry returned without the slightly, but Goyle was already dragging him away.</p><p>“Potter,” Pansy said as soon as they were out of sight. She had definitely planned this.</p><p>“I’ve already been threatened about hurting Malfoy twice,” Harry said, “so there’s really no need for – ”</p><p>“You haven’t been threatened by me,” Pansy threatened.</p><p>“Oh, come on, Pans,” Blaise said pityingly, “I already talked to him – ”</p><p>“I’ve seen what your interference has done, thank you very much, Blaise,” Pansy retorted. “This is a mess.”</p><p>“<em>Why</em> is it a mess?” Harry said, starting to get annoyed.</p><p>“Because you’re <em>you</em> and Draco’s Draco,” Theo said.</p><p><em>That’s why we work</em>, Harry wanted to say, but it sounded embarrassing even in his head.</p><p>“Draco’s our fearless leader, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” Pansy said.</p><p>“Fearless is a stretch,” Millicent said. “Fear<em>ful</em>, maybe?”</p><p>“Whatever,” Pansy snapped. “He’s also our heroine.”</p><p>This did make a certain sense. Malfoy often seemed like a histrionic Victorian maiden, especially when he stayed up all night studying.</p><p>“And Daphne,” added Theo lazily, “even if she’s shacked up with a Gryffindor.”</p><p>“They’ve <em>all</em> shacked up with Gryffindors,” Pansy said. “I digress. The point is, he’s ours. So when he said he wanted to go back to this school, I pointed out that a crazed maniac who had tried to kill him in a girls’ loo was also going back to this school, and when he ignored me, I made Blaise come here to look after him. What are <em>you</em> doing?”</p><p>“I’m,” Harry said, uncomfortable. “His friend?”</p><p>Pansy stared at him, and turned to Blaise. “Is he serious?”</p><p>“Deadly,” Blaise confirmed.</p><p>“And he doesn’t know – ” Daphne exchanged a meaningful look with Pansy that Harry could not decipher. “You know.”</p><p>“What,” Harry said.</p><p>“Pans, I swear I did this already,” Blaise said, exasperated, “and unless you want Draco coming back and killing us – ”</p><p>Pansy flapped her hand around, scowling. “Oh, fine. I don’t understand why he gets all angry and upset. I miss when we were all <em>encouraged</em> to insult Potter.”</p><p>“I think you’re still insulting me, actually,” Harry said, and then, “Is Blaise a heroine too, then?”</p><p>“What?” Pansy said.</p><p>“Blaise,” Harry repeated. “Isn’t he a heroine too?”</p><p>Pansy’s lips twitched. “Of course.”</p><p>“Potter, you’ve made Pansy smile,” said Malfoy, coming back from the table with an incredible amount of drinks that were mostly being held by Goyle, “who are you?”</p><p>The hour came by and went. Malfoy had been right about Harry liking Millie the best; she had the same opinions about Quidditch that he and Ginny did, and she was much easier to talk to than the rest. Goyle was next, to Harry’s immense surprise. He talked to Malfoy mostly. Theo didn’t say much to Harry, but he didn’t think he hated him. Though when Pansy saw that he and Malfoy had their ankles hooked around each other beneath the table she did seem to despair.</p><p>Blaise said, “You see what I have to deal with? Pans, you have no idea how lucky we are that Draco did not share a dormitory with Harry Potter for six years. Every day I would have been locked out of the dorm while they had earth-shattering fights and screamed at each other until the next day, where they would have been attached at the hip again.”</p><p>“That is <em>not</em> what would have happened,” Malfoy argued, and Harry said, “Well.”</p><p>Malfoy rolled his eyes and let Pansy stroke his hair until she had forgotten about it. He was clearly so happy that Harry couldn’t grudge Pansy for it at all. He kept beaming at Harry in-between insults about Harry’s hair, and listening to Goyle, and laughing with Millie, and stealing Theo’s drinks.</p><p>He thought the Sorting Hat might have been right after all. He could have done well in Slytherin. Maybe he could have helped the rest of them too, changed their minds.</p><p>By the time Pansy, Goyle, Theo, and Millie had started planning to leave, the rest of the Gryffindors had come inside to have a drink or two. Ron and Hermione waved at him, until they saw that he was sitting with a crowd of Slytherins, at which point they began to look concerned for his sanity and physical well-being.</p><p>Harry said goodbye (Goyle and Theo nodded at him and Millie smiled. Pansy hissed into his ear never to hurt Malfoy and gave him her address), and headed over to Hermione, who was waiting for Ron to come back with their drinks.</p><p>Hermione smiled at him when he sat down, but her gaze was on the Slytherins. She said, “I am trying to understand, you know.”</p><p>“Understand?” Harry echoed.</p><p>“I think I’ve almost got it,” Hermione said, and for a second Harry felt chilled, like he had almost understood something too, but then Hermione went on. “And I suppose Malfoy did apologise to me.”</p><p>“He did?”</p><p>Hermione nodded. “To Ron and Neville as well. It doesn’t mean much, but it means a little. And you see, I’ve got a great deal to hate Draco Malfoy for. But I have to be grateful to him too.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Because he makes you happy,” said Hermione. “He helped make you better.”</p><p>“Hermione,” Harry said, and didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t deny it. He was coming up on the edge here, almost there, almost there. He reached out to grasp her hand. “Hermione, you make me happy too. You and Ron. You know that, don’t you?”</p><p>Hermione’s eyes suddenly seemed bright with tears. She squeezed his hand tight. “Of course I know, Harry.”</p><p>Ron came back with the drinks and said, “Are we at five-pint sappy Harry and Hermione now? I’ve only just got the drinks!”</p><p>He saw the look on their faces and squeezed in to sit next to them, Harry’s best friends, and later Malfoy grudgingly conceded that maybe he would have lasted more than a minute if he’d been sorted into Slytherin.</p><p>It had worked out in the end, anyway, Harry thought.</p><p>────────────</p><p>They were walking back from Defence Against the Dark Arts, the day before Valentine’s Day, snow falling outside, on the day Harry figured it out.</p><p>He was carrying Malfoy’s books and their arms kept knocking together on the way back to the common room. Hermione had dragged Ron to the library, Blaise was frantically planning out how to proclaim his love for Ginny, and Daphne and Parvati had Divination. It was just them.</p><p>When Malfoy told the knight the password and they went inside, Harry looked back curiously and said, off-hand, “Who were they, anyway? Were they real people?”</p><p>Malfoy’s eyes lit up. He said, “Let me get my book.”</p><p>Harry settled down to sit at a table, putting down their books and pulling out his Potions essay that he’d left to the last minute, and let Malfoy do this without any objections. He had long since discovered that Draco Malfoy was an alternate universe, pureblood version of Hermione.</p><p>Malfoy came back holding an enormous and dusty tome Harry recalled seeing on their bookshelf, and dragged a chair beside Harry to sit in.</p><p>“They were important magical figures,” Malfoy said, “which you would know if you’d ever listened in History of Magic, Potter, you imbecile. Binns mentioned it in <em>third year</em>, though in passing.”</p><p>“Alright,” Harry said indulgently, “what’d they do?”</p><p>“Well, first it’s more about who they were,” said Malfoy. “There was this period of time, before the founders or the Ministry or anything like that, where wizards thought about having royalty, like Muggles do. It was this old wizarding family, died out forever ago, but if they hadn’t they’d probably have been on the Sacred Twenty-Eight…anyway, the family took place of power, essentially, and they had all these advisors and people to help them, and knights trained to protect them. At the time, wizard and goblin relations were at an all time low, and the family ordered the death of a couple of goblin families. So in retaliation, the goblins stole away the family’s youngest daughter when she was ten and raised her for their own. Shoddy decision-making in my opinion, but fast forward seven years later, the daughter is of age, and her entire family has been murdered by goblins or other wizards.”</p><p>“Well, that didn’t last long,” Harry noted, thinking of his own family with a pang.</p><p>Malfoy nodded. “Turns out wizards don’t like the idea of another family being that far above them. Anyway, her family’s dead and everyone’s given up on her except one of those knights, Meera Shafiq. She was an extremely distant ancestor of your grandmother probably, and she went looking for the daughter because she’d sworn to protect the family. She managed to find her, and she kept this diary along the way, it was a <em>brilliant</em> discovery for historians, but anyways, I’ve got a transcript in the book somewhere, someone tried to translate the language and put it in more modern words...there. Isolda’s the daughter.”</p><p>Harry took the book from him, struggling a bit under its weight, and found the passage Malfoy had pointed out. There was a copy of a handwritten letter, and beside that, a transcript of the letter. Harry squinted, only really understanding a few lines:</p><p>
  <em>Travelling with Isolda. I wishe the goblins had eaten her to get her off my hands. She is INSUFFERABLE, all high-and-mighty. I swear to Morgana and Circe, I shall turn over the perch if she does not stop talking soon. </em>
</p><p>“Er, it sounds like they hated each other,” Harry said.</p><p>“They <em>did</em>!” Malfoy said enthusiastically. “At least, all the evidence points that way, that they didn’t get on at all. But for the rest of their lives, they were never separated. Meera Shafiq led Isolda back to Britain, where no one was much inclined to argue with a girl who’d come back from the dead. And the goblins had raised her as their own for a long time, shared secrets with her. That’s why their statues are at Hogwarts; the two of them managed to get the humans and goblins to get along. It was a brief time of peace and prosperity for magical Britain, and Isolda campaigned for rights for Muggleborns and other magical creatures. Of course, then she died, and she’d never married, and everyone started fighting amongst themselves again. There’s great debate but I think Isolda and Meera Shafiq were probably. You know.” Malfoy waggled his eyebrows. “And that’s why she never married despite the threat to her line. Binns <em>talked </em>about this, Potter, honestly.”</p><p>“It’s more interesting when you say it,” Harry said, and watched Malfoy preen with some amusement.</p><p>────────────</p><p>When Malfoy went to his Arithmancy class, he went out to look at the statues: the queen’s serene expression, the knight’s devoted pose.</p><p>There it was again, that nagging feeling. Malfoy in the morning, sleepy-eyed and grabbing at Harry’s arm, his shirt slipping down. Something he was forgetting. Something he was trying not to notice.</p><p>Harry thought about Malfoy saying, <em>They didn’t get on at all, but for the rest of their lives, they were never separated. </em>He thought about his mother’s fury directed towards his father in the Pensieve, the way she’d glowed with happiness in the photographs he’d managed to find after. The way Harry had said, <em>she hated him</em>, and Sirius’s response: <em>Nah, she didn’t. </em>Ginny had said it easily, like it would make sense: “Are you in love with Malfoy?” He thought about Ron saying, <em>You know how you are about Malfoy. </em></p><p>It was, perhaps, time to admit that he did know.</p><p>“Oh, <em>fucking </em>hell,” Harry said.</p><p>“Wrong password,” the knight intoned.</p><p>────────────</p><p>He was at a loose end the rest of the day. He paced back and forth in front of the common room door panicking and trying not to panic until Lisa Turpin walked over and asked him very slowly if he’d forgotten the password. Then he went to his room to panic some more. Only being in his room was horrible because it was Malfoy’s room too, and he was <em>in love</em> with Malfoy, or had certain feelings for him, or whatever, it was a <em>disaster </em>either way.</p><p>And Malfoy was everywhere, his empty cup of coffee on his desk and his books neatly stacked on every shelf and his green-and-silver scarf tossed lazily on the bed. Harry’s next class was with him. Harry <em>shared this room</em> with him. There was no escape, and if he was being perfectly honest, Harry didn’t want to escape.</p><p>“How has this happened to me?” Harry asked the room. “How have I not <em>known</em>?”</p><p>Constant vigilance, he thought furiously. His constant vigilance had <em>failed </em>him. He was in love with Draco Malfoy and had been for who the fuck knew how long, and now he was doomed.</p><p>Harry sank to his bed in despair and considered the tendency for dramatics in Slytherin House, and that maybe this was what the Sorting Hat had been referring to all along when he said Harry would do well there.</p><p>And he couldn’t find Ron, even though Ron must have come back to the common room, because Hermione and Malfoy had Arithmancy together. Ron would look at him and just <em>know</em>. God, maybe he <em>already</em> knew. <em>Hermione </em>probably knew.</p><p>He tried to work on his essay and kept thinking about how Malfoy would have told him every sentence was wrong. He tried to organize his trunk and found the book Malfoy had given him, pressed carefully back into the packaging after Harry had read it front to back. He tried to take a shower and kept remembering Malfoy singing in the shower, which led to thinking about Malfoy in the shower, which was not a productive train of thought. He tried to think about everything wrong with Malfoy, of which there was a lot, but being all-too aware of his faults made him seem more real, somehow.</p><p>Malfoy had wormed his way into Harry’s life and now there was no way to extract him from it. Harry didn’t want to, anyway. He was just going to have to ignore this, only it had never, never been easy to ignore Malfoy.</p><p>He thought about skipping the next class, but then Malfoy would know something was up. He expected Flitwick’s five points from Gryffindor because he was late on purpose, hoping Blaise or Terry or Anthony would have sat with Malfoy in his place. But when he came to the classroom, Blaise and Parvati were sitting in front of Malfoy, whose bag was clearly saving a seat for Harry.</p><p>Harry’s heart hurt. He slunk into the seat and tried not to look directly at Malfoy, the way you shied away from the sun.</p><p><em>Nothing has to change</em>, Harry thought, over and over again while Flitwick was talking. Malfoy was writing notes, but his foot kept coming up against Harry’s under the table and even if Harry had been trying to concentrate, he wouldn’t have been able to.</p><p><em>Nothing has to change</em>. When Malfoy got a question right and he turned around to smirk all self-satisfied at Harry, Harry rolled his eyes back. When the bell rang, he waited for Malfoy to gather all his things. When Malfoy smiled he smiled back, and he thought, for a second, <em>Maybe he does </em>– but he couldn’t let himself believe that.</p><p>If his stomach kept twisting and if he thought about pulling Malfoy in by the front of his robes, no one noticed.</p><p>When they got back to the common room, Blaise dragged Harry away to ask him seriously if he thought Ginny would like a statue of herself in chocolate. Harry busied himself doing homework with Ron and Hermione after that until it was time to go to sleep. He considered going to the Gryffindor common room or sleeping anywhere else, but he couldn’t think of a good excuse for doing so. He imagined the hurt, bewildered look on Malfoy’s face and went upstairs resigned, with a sinking heart.</p><p>He couldn’t sleep anyway. He lied awake all night, thinking about the curve of Malfoy’s mouth when he smiled, unexpected because he was always sneering or smirking. He couldn’t decide if it was better or worse that Malfoy wasn’t awake too.</p><p>Valentine’s Day was awful as a result. He’d got no sleep at all, and at breakfast, he’d received so many Valentines they were all obscuring his breakfast. He couldn’t see anything except owls swooping down and handing him cards and a few memorable Howlers that made the eighth years all howl with laughter. Harry listened to the Howlers and tried to move the cards away from his toast despondently. One of them, a picture of a hideous dwarf wearing pink and red with an arrow, kept squeaking out, “Marry me, Harry Potter!”</p><p>Everywhere he looked was a happy couple. Ron gave Hermione a new book and flowers, and she had got him chocolate, and they kept beaming at each other. Parvati was sitting on Daphne’s lap, a flower crown perched on her head as they both made their way through the mountain of chocolate that had been sent for Harry.</p><p>Malfoy from beside him kept cackling at the Valentines, and Harry kept looking at the way he was licking jam off his butter knife, which was frankly obscene and not <em>decent, </em>there were <em>children</em> about.</p><p>Malfoy also had to move Harry’s elbow out of his oatmeal and stop him from putting salt in his pumpkin juice several times, except he didn’t stop Harry from putting salt in his pumpkin juice. He let him do it and then laughed for a solid ten minutes, before switching Harry’s pumpkin juice out with his own.</p><p>“Did you get <em>any</em> sleep?” he asked, diverted from the seeming hilarity of Harry’s Valentines.</p><p>“Lots,” lied Harry around a yawn. “Look, Blaise is.” Another yawn. “Approaching Ginny.”</p><p>“Oh, dear God,” Malfoy said, watching with his hands over his eyes as Blaise checked his hair and started moving towards Ginny from the Slytherin table.</p><p>Ginny, a bit farther along the Gryffindor table with a group of her friends and Luna next to her, was looking with some bemusement at the white doves that had landed in front of her with a barreload of her favourite chocolates, a bouquet of roses, a Quidditch broom grooming set, and a necklace in a velvet box that she had taken out to look at. Harry had <em>told</em> Blaise not to go overboard.</p><p>Blaise opened his mouth to start on the speech that the Ravenclaws and Hermione had helped him write, and stammered out a few sentences before Ginny had stood up, swung her arms around his neck, and kissed him. Blaise stood still for a moment before he started kissing her back passionately.</p><p>“Well, would you look at that,” Malfoy said, astonished, amongst a backdrop of whistling and crowing. “I never thought it would really happen.”</p><p>Ron had his hands over his eyes and was asking Hermione if it was over yet, and McGonagall was beginning to march along to the Gryffindor table to break them apart, but Harry could see Ginny smiling from over here when they broke apart, and Blaise bowing to his audience, as Luna clapped vaguely. He’d never thought it would happen either, but he was glad for them. He hoped Ginny was happy.</p><p>“Another Slytherin lost to a Gryffindor,” mourned Malfoy, still looking at Blaise and Ginny with a small smile playing on his lips. “Pansy’ll murder him.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Harry said hoarsely, and didn’t think the likelihood of another Slytherin falling for a Gryffindor was very high.</p><p>────────────</p><p>February turned to March, the cold weather thawing enough that nine of them headed down to the pitch to play a makeshift, modified game of Quidditch with only two Chasers and one Beater. Harry and Malfoy claimed respective Seekers immediately, and Harry snagged Ron as Keeper, Dean and Seamus as Chasers, and Lisa Turpin as a Beater. Malfoy’s team consisted of Anthony as Keeper, Padma and Terry as Chasers, and Susan as his Beater.</p><p>It was fun, it was just <em>good</em>. Flying had always been easy, and flying against Malfoy had always made him feel alive. Only this time, Malfoy was singing Celestina Warbeck’s “Beat Back Those Bludgers, Boys, and Chuck That Quaffle There,” off-key in the air as he and Harry trailed circles around each other. Harry laughed so hard he nearly fell off his broom. He thought that maybe he could deal with this, that it would be fine. Then the wind whipped Malfoy’s hair into a frenzy and his cheeks turned pink from cold, and Harry’s stomach swooped and it was <em>maddening</em>, it didn’t make any sense and he couldn’t <em>stop</em>.</p><p>At least he caught the Snitch, his and Malfoy’s fingertips grazing before he pulled up into the air with Ron whooping triumphantly.</p><p>By the time Easter holidays came around, most of the eighth years were frantically planning out their revision for exams. Ron admitted to Harry in-between Hermione tossing revision timetables at him that he wasn’t worried about exams. They’d both gotten that letter from the Aurors, after all, like most of the D.A, but Ron seemed to be under the impression that they were both going to go directly into Auror training after school. Harry didn’t want to think about it.</p><p>He thought maybe getting some distance from Malfoy would be better. Then he let himself admit in his head that he was going to be miserable the whole holidays, and went to help Luna hide Easter eggs in the castle to try and forget about it, went to play Exploding Snap with Ron to try and forget about it, went to watch Ginny’s Quidditch practice with Blaise to try and forget about it. He couldn’t.</p><p>He wasn’t going to stay at the Burrow for all of the holidays. Ginny hadn’t wanted to bring it up, but she’d mentioned talking about Blaise to her mother, which meant it was serious. Harry didn’t want to make things awkward. It would be easier for Ginny if he wasn’t there, and he should give the Weasleys their space anyway. He was going to stay with Andromeda and Teddy instead, at least until Malfoy said he was staying at Hogwarts for the holidays.</p><p>“What do you mean you’re staying?” Harry said, staring at him.</p><p>They were in Potions, working as partners. Slughorn had stopped looking baffled at this development and now took to smiling benevolently at Malfoy, who had forgotten his initial dislike of Slughorn and now looked pleased every time he smiled. It worked out well, since Malfoy was much better at Potions than Harry was. Slughorn had so far not noticed any lack of Harry’s previous brilliant skills, or the fact that these days Harry was mostly just staring at Malfoy’s hands while they measured ingredients and stirred potions.</p><p>Malfoy checked the textbook carefully and measured out a phial of powdered root of asphodel. He put it in their potion, stirred, and let it stew for the requisite ten minutes. “Mother’s in France and she has business there. I told her to stay. She wanted me to come there but – ” He hesitated. “I’d rather stay here.”</p><p>“But no one’s staying,” Harry protested. Everyone was going home to their family, either because they wanted to be home or because their parents wanted them to be home. Hermione, the Ravenclaws, and Justin had been panicking over bringing their revision and books home. Ron said the exams were ages away, to which Hermione had snapped that there were only <em>two months</em> left.</p><p>Malfoy shrugged. “I’ve got studying to do. I’ll be fine.”</p><p>Which was how Harry knew it <em>wasn’t</em> fine, because if it was fine then Malfoy would have thrown a fit and been all dramatic and talked about how alone he would be. It was the thought of Malfoy sitting in the common room alone that made Harry blurt out, “You can go with me.”</p><p>Malfoy looked up, alarmed. “To the Weasleys’?”</p><p>“No, I wasn’t going to stay with them for the holidays,” said Harry, “I was – well, we can stay in Grimmauld Place.”</p><p>As he said it, he remembered that the last time he’d stayed in Grimmauld Place was in the summer, and that it was a horrible idea to invite Malfoy to stay with him, it would make everything worse. But he couldn’t stand the idea of Malfoy on his own for the holidays.</p><p>“Grimmauld Place,” Malfoy repeated, startled. “The Blacks’ place. That’s right – it was yours, after – I don’t know, Potter.”</p><p>“Oh come on,” said Harry. “It beats staying here alone.”</p><p>“I don’t want to impose,” Malfoy said slowly, which made Harry snort and try to throw lacewing flies at him. Malfoy dodged and relented, “Oh, fine, if you’re sure.”</p><p>Harry had got what he wanted, but he had made things ten times worse than they already were. Maybe a little distance from Malfoy could have helped. But maybe the fact that he didn’t want any distance from Malfoy was the reason no one could help him at all.</p><p>Either way, he could see the way Malfoy had brightened. He couldn’t bring himself to regret it.</p><p>────────────</p><p>Inviting Malfoy to Grimmauld Place became clear as an awful idea as soon as they walked through the door. Malfoy’s chattering woke up the portrait of Sirius’s mad old mum and she began bellowing about half-blood filth and blood traitors.</p><p>“Aunt Walburga?” Malfoy said.</p><p>Walburga Black trailed off as soon as she saw Malfoy. “Is that my darling Draco?”</p><p>“It <em>is </em>you,” said Malfoy. “I haven’t seen you since I was a child!”</p><p>And he went over to sit in front of her portrait, listening to her rant about the usual inhabitants of Grimmauld Place, nodding absently, and telling her about how his mother was doing.</p><p>“I cannot believe you,” Harry announced in general.</p><p>Then Kreacher showed up with a crack and immediately burst into tears at the sight of Malfoy and said, “Master Draco is returning to his rightful home!”</p><p>Harry was now beginning to feel incredibly miffed, and Malfoy looked increasingly smug.</p><p>It was as though Grimmauld Place had been waiting for Malfoy; everything seemed brighter and more alive. The gas lamps lit up by themselves and the chandelier sparkled despite the fine layer of dust hanging over it, the house made anew by Malfoy’s obvious happiness to be here. Still, none of that could hide the disrepair Grimmauld Place had fallen into.</p><p>“Good God, Potter,” Malfoy said, appalled. “You live in this squalor? What have you done to this place?”</p><p>“I haven’t lived here since the summer,” Harry said defensively. “And it was like this before me.”</p><p>“This is one of the oldest wizarding homes in Britain!” Malfoy said. “Your poor house elf isn’t going to be able to do everything, you know.”</p><p>Harry had a brief moment in which he thought about Hermione introducing Malfoy to S.P.E.W. “<em>You</em> want to help me clean this place up?”</p><p>Malfoy set his trunk on the floor and surveyed the layout of the house loftily. “Well, I am going to be living here for two weeks.”</p><p>So their first few days staying in Grimmauld Place were spent cleaning it up, like the summer before Harry’s fifth year, except this time there weren’t any dark objects putting up a fight, the house and Kreacher seemed to actively be helping them, and Harry was having a much better time. Even Walburga kept the shouting to a minimum, and seemed to be taking some time to rest. Malfoy had charmed his gramophone to fit in his school trunk, and he tinkered with it for hours until Patrick Swayze was singing while they worked.</p><p>Kreacher did keep sobbing whenever he saw Malfoy, but he cleaned up the rooms until they were sparkling, and handed them plates of sandwiches and glasses of water while they cast cleaning spells on the rooms.</p><p>Malfoy complained at length about the curtains in the drawing room and some of the “ghastly” decor. Harry drew the line at going to Diagon Alley to pick up materials, though. They did their best with colour-changing charms and getting rid of some carpets and furniture that even Harry agreed were hideous to look at.</p><p>They both took rooms next to each other on the second floor, but Harry didn’t get much sleep.</p><p>It was a lot like living in their room at Hogwarts, living with Malfoy here, but it seemed different. Harry made breakfast in the morning, waving away Kreacher’s attempts to help, and they ate in the kitchen while Malfoy pretended not to like his food and finished it all. Malfoy worked on his revision after Kreacher made them lunch, and then they went out to walk around Muggle London where the pigeons and locals charmed Malfoy or to the gardens to clear up the weeds and dead gnomes. The first day they’d gone out to the garden, Harry had to move Sirius’s bike, the one Hagrid had fixed for him, and Malfoy disappeared into Grimmauld Place babbling about writing a letter to Pansy.</p><p>Owls from Ron, Hermione, Pansy, Blaise, and Daphne kept flying in when they had dinner. Sometimes they got into screaming rows over whose turn it had been to clean up or who’d knocked over one of the house elves’ shrunken heads, arguments that turned bafflingly into every other thing they’d used to fight over – Hagrid, Slytherins, Quidditch. It was easier to fight with none of the other eighth years around, but it meant they made up quicker, too.</p><p>Malfoy never said he wanted to leave. Harry never said he wanted Malfoy to leave. If he’d hoped that more proximity to Malfoy would have made him annoyed, sick of Malfoy, enough to give up on this ridiculous feeling – he’d been wrong.</p><p>It was like they could really live here, the two of them. Like this was their home.</p><p>It was stupid.</p><p>They’d been at Grimmauld Place for a week and it looked more liveable than Harry had ever seen it, when Malfoy found a new project. They were in the bedroom Harry had tossed his things in. Harry was lying on his stomach and flipping through his Transfiguration textbook absently while Malfoy was examining the wardrobe when Malfoy said, very faintly, “Please tell me the rest of your clothes are in your trunk.”</p><p>“What?” Harry said, looking up from frowning at a mysterious stain on page 97. Malfoy had opened the wardrobe and was staring at its meagre content. “Er, some of them, yeah. Those clothes are from the summer.”</p><p>Malfoy immediately moved towards Harry’s trunk and started rifling through it.</p><p>“What are you <em>doing</em>?” Harry said, laughing. He stood up and winced as Malfoy threw his clothes out of the trunk.</p><p>“Potter,” said Malfoy finally, standing in a circle with clothes all around him, “what is this?”</p><p>“My belongings?” Harry started tossing his clothes back in his trunk.</p><p>Malfoy picked up a pair of jeans. “<em>These </em>are not your size.” He picked up several shirts. “These are not your size either, and they are the most hideous things I’ve seen in my life.” He picked up a pair of sweatpants. “These are not your size <em>either</em>, and they are an abomination that should be set on fire.” He let the clothes in his hand fall to the floor dramatically. “I have not noticed this for so long because you are always either wearing your school robes, Weasley jumpers, Quidditch shirts, pyjamas, or the same two pairs of jeans over and over again. Potter, I know you have money, and even if you didn’t, people would <em>give clothes to you for free </em>because you saved the wizarding world. Explain yourself.”</p><p>“I don’t think clothes are that important,” Harry said, shrugging. “Or looks in general.”</p><p>“Of <em>course </em>you don’t.”</p><p>“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry asked, a bit stung. “I don’t. I don’t care what I look like.”</p><p>“Oh, I know,” said Malfoy darkly.</p><p>“Then, what – ”</p><p>“Merlin, Potter,” Malfoy sputtered, “just – have you <em>ever</em> looked in a mirror?”</p><p>It took Harry another moment to get it, and then he was grinning. “Oh.”</p><p>He thought again, <em>maybe</em>, but Malfoy was already going on, “That’s still not an excuse, you could at least buy terrible clothes in your <em>size</em>.”</p><p>Harry shrugged again. “I don’t know. It didn’t seem like a big deal. Most of those clothes are Dudley’s. Er, my cousin. Those were the ones my aunt and uncle gave me as a kid.”</p><p>“Well, they don’t <em>fit </em>you,” Malfoy said, sounding angry, but not at Harry. “They should have gotten you clothes that <em>fit</em> you, now you’ve got some terrible complex and you don’t think clothes are that <em>important</em>, and yet you still look – !” He took a deep breath. “Alright. We’re going.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Malfoy started taking all the clothes out of the trunk. “We’re burning these and we’re buying you new ones.”</p><p>“You can’t <em>burn</em> those.”</p><p>“We’ll give them away to satisfy your Hufflepuff needs, then,” said Malfoy. “Now let’s go.”</p><p>“Malfoy, I am not going to a wizarding clothes store,” Harry said. “Everyone will try to mob me, and I don’t understand wizarding clothes that much anyway.”</p><p>“No, we’ll work our way up to that,” said Malfoy dismissively. “We’ll go to a Muggle place.”</p><p>Harry raised his eyebrows. “You know one?”</p><p>Malfoy hesitated. He looked a bit shifty. “Well, yes.”</p><p>Harry sighed. “Fine. But I <em>like</em> that striped shirt.”</p><p>“This is a <em>monstrosity</em>.”</p><p>That was how they ended up Apparating to a nearby clothes store in Muggle London, in Muggle clothes to blend in, as Malfoy had insisted. Harry looked around dubiously. He saw clothes but he was not that sure what the difference was between these clothes and his own.</p><p>“Alright,” Malfoy said, pleased, and looked perfectly in his element.</p><p>Harry trailed after him as he tossed T-shirts and trousers in Harry’s arms. “How do you know my size?”</p><p>Malfoy ignored this in favour of handing him a pair of jeans and a pullover.</p><p>“Try those on,” Malfoy said distractedly an hour later, surveying a mannequin modelling a red jumper with his head tilted to the side.</p><p>“I thought you knew my size!” Harry protested, struggling under the weight of all the clothes in his hands.</p><p>Malfoy looked at him and almost smiled. “Trying clothes on is a formality, you idiot. You’re lucky I’m not making you get a tailor.” But he let Harry lead them towards the paying desk. The shop assistant, a dark-skinned girl with two braids and a piercing in her eyebrow, took in their enormous load of clothes with raised eyebrows, and then took Malfoy in with a sudden, shocked smile. To Harry’s amazement, she rushed over to them, and hugged Malfoy, and Malfoy hugged her <em>back</em>.</p><p>“I didn’t know you’d be working today!” Malfoy said, beaming at her while Harry continued to stare.</p><p>The girl pulled away to punch him in the arm. “Where have you <em>been</em>? You disappeared off the face of the earth. We haven’t heard from you since Christmas!”</p><p>“My school doesn’t, um, allow technology, remember,” Malfoy said.</p><p>The girl made a face. “That shit’s archaic, mate.” She seemed to notice Harry for the first time and her surprised eyebrows made a return. “Soz, mind my manners. I’m Ester, pronouns she slash her. Are you Draz’s boyfriend?” She punched Malfoy in the arm again and whispered loudly, “You didn’t tell me about him! He’s a bit of an alright, isn’t he?”</p><p>In quick succession, Harry’s brain went <em>Draz? </em>and <em>boyfriend</em>? and he barely managed to say, “Er, I’m Harry, I’m not – ”</p><p>“He’s not my boyfriend,” Malfoy said, very pink.</p><p>“Ooookayy,” Ester said, quizzical brows making another appearance. “I’ll ring you up, then.”</p><p>After, she said goodbye to them cheerily and made Malfoy promise not to ignore her again, which he did while still smiling.</p><p>Harry waited until they’d walked out of the store to ask, “So, that – ”</p><p>“Yes, alright,” Malfoy said, not looking directly at him. “I suppose I could have explained. I did say I lived in the Muggle world after the war, and, you know, the Malfoy accounts were frozen for a while – we couldn’t use magic, and – I thought I might as well get a job in the Muggle world, where no one would mind hiring me.” His hand went absently to his left arm, covered as it usually was by his sleeves.</p><p>“You got a job at a Muggle clothing store.”</p><p>“Yes,” Malfoy said sharply, like he was waiting for Harry to laugh. Harry couldn’t blame him. Eight months ago, he would have laughed at the idea of Draco Malfoy working retail. “For the summer. And Ester and some other girls worked there too, and we got on fairly well. So.” His chin tilted up.</p><p>Harry could have killed him or kissed him, proud, ridiculous Draco Malfoy. He said instead, “Draz?”</p><p>“Oh, shut up,” Malfoy said, looking relieved.</p><p>“How come she said her pronouns – ”</p><p>“People use the wrong pronouns for her sometimes,” Malfoy said. “Muggles haven’t got a Potion for if they’re born not looking the way they are. Sometimes they have to have surgery, and people don’t understand it properly. I didn’t know that before.”</p><p>Harry hadn’t known much about it at all. The Dursleys hadn’t exactly been the type to tell him about things like that. “Wizards have a Potion for that?”</p><p>“Yes,” Malfoy said, giving him a weirded-out look. “Blaise used the Potion, he told his mother and she went to St. Mungo’s to ask for it. That’s why he was in and out of the Hospital Wing in school.”</p><p>“Huh,” Harry said. “I never noticed that.”</p><p>“I cannot even begin to express the depths of my lack of surprise,” Malfoy told him, and they went back to Grimmauld Place with their dozens of bags and ordered takeout for lunch while Malfoy practiced Transfiguring items and made Harry ask him questions from his Arithmancy notes.</p><p>Since Harry knew about Malfoy’s Muggle friends now, when Harry went over to visit the Weasleys or Teddy and Andromeda, Malfoy sometimes went to visit Ester and the girls. Harry would have liked to meet them, but Malfoy never asked, so he never did. It was after one of these trips that Malfoy triumphantly came home – no, to Grimmauld Place – with a Muggle telly and a VHS tape.</p><p>He was practically jumping up and down with excitement when he found Harry finishing up an Owl to Ron and Hermione in the drawing room.</p><p>“Nuwa and Ester gave me their old fellytone,” he said, all in a rush, “come help me set it up so we can watch Dirty Dancing and you can finally see its brilliance.”</p><p>Which made Harry want to lean over and kiss him, or just <em>touch</em> him, God, and this had been a horrible idea.</p><p>He helped set the telly up. Malfoy was more of a hindrance than a help, and he had gone to ask Kreacher for snacks, and came back with enough cakes and biscuits to feed an army.</p><p>They settled on one of the drawing room couches, the telly on a table they’d dragged in front of it, Malfoy cross-legged with his knees touching Harry’s.</p><p>Malfoy had been right. It was a good movie, even if Harry understood approximately seventy-five percent of it. He pretended not to notice when Malfoy teared up in the middle and in exchange Malfoy pretended not to notice when he teared up at the end. It was dark by the time they’d finished, time for dinner, but they stayed sitting for a while, Malfoy yawning and turning his head into Harry’s shoulder. They stayed there for a while, Harry still as a statue, barely daring to move, barely daring to breathe.</p><p>“Told you that was a good movie,” Malfoy murmured, satisfied.</p><p>“You were right just once,” said Harry, and let himself relax into Malfoy’s touch. As soon as he did, Malfoy leaped away and looked strange for a moment. Next moment he was perfectly normal again, and they went to have dinner in the kitchen before making their way to separate rooms.</p><p>Harry must have imagined it.</p><p>────────────</p><p>“What <em>were </em>you going to do all alone here anyway?” Malfoy asked over breakfast on Easter Sunday. “Just brood? Walk around the rooms and sulk?”</p><p>Harry rolled his eyes, flipping over a pancake. “I was going to stay with Teddy and Andromeda.”</p><p>Malfoy was quiet for so long Harry turned around to check on him, sliding him a plate of pancakes and bacon. He was frowning, looking at the table.</p><p>“Oh,” Harry said. “She’s your aunt. Have you – have you talked to her?”</p><p>Malfoy started pouring terrible amounts of syrup on his pancakes. “Don’t really know how that conversation would work. Hi, Aunt Andromeda, my mother refuses to speak of you, I think she moved to France so that she never has to confront you, and my other aunt murdered your favourite cousin and I was on the side you left, the side that incidentally killed your daughter and husband, do you mind if I come over for a cup of tea? I never knew she even existed for most of my life. I’ve never even met her!”</p><p>“Well, don’t say all <em>that</em>,” Harry said, and Malfoy laughed. “Look, I think Teddy would want to see you.”</p><p>Malfoy groaned, and ate his syrup-drenched pancakes instead of answering. But Harry sent an Owl to Andromeda, and a few hours later, they were standing in front of her cottage and she was opening the door.</p><p>Teddy ran out immediately to jump into Harry’s arms, and Harry laughed, catching him and swinging him around before setting him down. Andromeda had been smiling until she saw Malfoy, and then she looked like she had seen a ghost.</p><p>“Hello,” Malfoy said, pale and sounding like there was something stuck in his throat.</p><p>“This is Draco Malfoy,” Harry said to Andromeda hastily. “He’s, er, staying with me for the hols.”</p><p>“I see,” Andromeda said. Harry waited in dread but all she did was welcome them in to the sitting room.</p><p>Teddy kept looking at Malfoy curiously, so when Andromeda went into the kitchen to check how her house-elf was doing with refreshments, Harry dragged Malfoy aside to say, “Go talk to Teddy.”</p><p>Malfoy looked panicked. “I can’t. He’ll hate me.”</p><p>“He’s a two-year old, Malfoy.”</p><p>“Exactly!” Malfoy hissed, casting a dark look back at Teddy, who was singing and drawing a picture. “I’ve missed two years of his birthdays! No presents, no money! He knows! He knows what I’ve done! Do you know what I would have done to a relative who ignored my birthday, Potter?”</p><p>Harry could imagine. “You weren’t exactly an example of normal two-year old behaviour. Teddy doesn’t care about that. He gets loads of presents.” Harry gave him too much, according to Andromeda, but he remembered that when he was a kid, getting presents meant you were loved. He wanted to make sure Teddy knew that.</p><p>“Easy for you to say,” Malfoy accused. “You’re good with kids. They like you.”</p><p>Harry startled at this. “Well, I don’t know, it’s not that hard. I mean, it is hard,” he amended. “Kids don’t make sense a lot of the time, but they’re honest. You just have to be patient with them. Go ask him about his drawing.”</p><p>Malfoy looked exasperated. “Oh, alright, fine.” He walked over to Teddy like a man walking to his death, which Harry had experience with, shot Harry a nasty look, and said, “Hi, Teddy, what are you drawing?”</p><p>“Rocket ship truck,” Teddy said, brandishing his paper proudly.</p><p>“Oh my God, do those exist?” Malfoy said, staring at at the picture in awe. “That is so cool.”</p><p>This made Teddy laugh and say, “You’re slow truck.”</p><p>Malfoy looked flummoxed, but when Teddy failed to run away screaming about birthday presents from him, he seemed to let the truck comment go in favour of helping Teddy draw a rocket ship airplane and a rocket ship castle. Teddy’s hair started turning platinum blonde.</p><p>“That’s Teddy’s new favourite thing to say,” Andromeda said. She had entered the sitting room and was standing behind Harry with an unreadable look on her face. “You’re slow truck. I’ve got no idea what it means.”</p><p>They watched Teddy and Malfoy for a few moments.</p><p>“He’s a bit strange,” Andromeda said, watching Malfoy argue with Teddy over which colours to use. “But I’ve lost enough family. I’d welcome getting some back.”</p><p>“I think he would too,” Harry said, and after that the visit to Teddy and Andromeda ran fairly smoothly, and when they were leaving, Malfoy mentioned to Andromeda, hesitantly, that maybe he would write a letter to his mother about her. This meant that Malfoy came with Harry to Teddy’s birthday party, where many Weasleys looked at him askance but said nothing for Andromeda and Teddy’s sakes. Malfoy spent most of the party hiding behind Harry’s back anyway, which didn’t work because he was taller, and Ron gave Harry a look he couldn’t decipher. Teddy was happy, though. Harry called it a success.</p><p>────────────</p><p>The sooner the end of Easter holidays approached, the more restless Harry got. He didn’t want to leave. Leaving meant they’d be having exams, and after that, he’d have no choice but to decide what he was going to say in response to that Auror letter in his trunk.</p><p>Malfoy seemed antsy too. Two days before they were set to leave he hit the chandelier with a Quaffle they’d been tossing back and forth in the hallway, one throw each for a question about Transfiguration. Harry spent ten minutes making fun of him.</p><p>They had to fix the chandelier after that, broken glass dusting the floor and the Dirty Dancing soundtrack drifting up from Malfoy’s gramophone. <em>Love, </em>the gramophone sang, <em>love is strange. </em></p><p><em>Tell me about it</em>, Harry thought.</p><p>“Why do you like that film so much anyway?” he asked, sweeping glass in the bin.</p><p>Malfoy, his back to Harry and his wand in the air as he repaired the chandelier, said, “I don’t know. I just liked it. I suppose it reminded me of dance lessons when I was a child. They were obviously never like that, but it was similar.”</p><p>Harry laughed, leaning against the wall and careful not to lean by Walburga’s portrait. “You had dance lessons?”</p><p>“Oh, all pureblood families did,” Malfoy said crossly, turning around to glare at him, “you can ask Weasley – ”</p><p>“Show me, then.”</p><p>“I can’t show you. I need a partner.”</p><p>“You have a partner,” Harry said, gesturing grandly down at himself.</p><p>Malfoy’s face did something odd. He said, “You absolutely cannot dance, and I would be a rubbish teacher.”</p><p>Harry frowned.</p><p>“Oh, <em>fine</em>,” Malfoy exploded. “Fine, come here. I’ll have to lead.”</p><p>He realised what an awful idea this had been when he and Malfoy were standing inches away from each other, and Malfoy was directing Harry’s hand to his shoulder, and putting his hand on Harry’s waist.</p><p>Harry was not going to quit. He didn’t quit things. He was, however, seriously wishing he could consider a tactical retreat from this failed operation where all he could smell was vanilla and Malfoy was too close. The place where Malfoy’s hand touched his waist felt like it was on fire. He remembered being annoyed that Malfoy had shot up above him but he wasn’t anymore; it was something else, the way they were the right height to dance with each other, the way that Malfoy wasn’t too tall for him but he was still taller.</p><p>The music in the background helped, because Malfoy was humming along absently. While he instructed Harry to step that way, no, <em>that</em> way, Harry could pretend that this was all a joke, something silly.</p><p>“One two three, step-step-turn-you-are-awful-at-this-Potter-step – <em>Potter</em>.” Malfoy laughed. Harry waited for him to get annoyed but he didn’t seem upset. He said the steps again, a soft murmur until Harry had almost gotten it, and when Harry did get it he couldn’t pretend it was a joke at all. He let Malfoy lead him past the portraits, under the chandelier, and Grimmauld Place seemed to move with them, the walls stretching out to give them more space and the lamps getting brighter. The sound of the gramophone got fainter and fainter, and Harry lifted his hand up to turn around and find himself in Malfoy’s arms, close enough that if Harry reached up he could –</p><p>The song ended and Malfoy moved suddenly away. “Nothing on Baby and Johnny, of course,” he said, too quick, his voice hoarse. “We could never manage any of the dips or lifts.”</p><p>Harry swallowed. “Right. I could lift you, though,” he added, to break the tension, “you weigh next to nothing.”</p><p>“You absolutely could not. I am <em>taller</em> than you,” Malfoy said, offended, but he still wasn’t looking at Harry. They stood for a moment, far apart from each other in silence. Harry did not know what had happened. He didn’t know what to do. He only knew what he wanted to do, which was to rush over and rest his head in the crook of Malfoy’s neck.</p><p>Outside it had begun to rain.</p><p>Harry could hear it falling from the open window in the dining room. He went to close it and found himself staring instead, breathing in the rain and looking at the grey landscape, buildings and people ducking their heads under umbrellas, rushing to get home. Malfoy found him there, still looking outside.</p><p>“What are you doing?”</p><p>“I dunno,” Harry said, sticking his hand out to feel the water. “I like the rain.”</p><p>“The <em>rain</em>?” Malfoy said skeptically. Harry looked back to see him settling on the long wooden table of the dining room, the one they’d hardly used in the Order, his ankles crossed and his hands braced on the edge of the table.</p><p>Harry shrugged, moving over to sit next to him and swinging his legs back and forth. “It makes me feel alive.”</p><p>This was the truth and he hadn’t known it until he’d said it, and he wished he hadn’t said it aloud.</p><p>Malfoy was frowning. “What, like you’re not alive the rest of the time? Are you secretly an Inferi, Potter? Are you – ooh, from one of those Muggle films, a zombie?”</p><p>“Arsehole,” Harry said, laughing. “No, I’m not, I was just – dead for a few moments.”</p><p>Malfoy stared at him. “Good God, Potter, you can’t go around <em>saying</em> things like that. You were just <em>dead</em> for a few moments, oh, no big deal then, I’m Harry Potter and I come back from the dead, it’s a <em>hobby</em>.”</p><p>“It wasn’t like that,” Harry said, “it was like – it’s really complicated, but when Voldemort killed me and everyone thought I was dead, I actually died, but because part of his soul was in my soul – or, whatever. I was dead then. And I came back to life, because of the soul thing, so when – well, when your mum came to check if I was alive or not, I was, then. She lied to him. For – well, for you.”</p><p>“I know,” Malfoy said. “You said, at the – at the trial.”</p><p>“Yeah.” Harry almost laughed. It was ridiculous the way they were intertwined, in life and death and in ways that they could never make sense of. “But – I had a choice. I could have stayed, or I could have come back to finish the job.”</p><p>“And you came back,” Malfoy said, voice quiet and still.</p><p>“Yeah.” Harry stared out at the window. “I had to.”</p><p>“Had to,” Malfoy echoed. “No you didn’t. You could have stayed gone. Most people would have, if they’d been you. I would have, but I was. I was never like you. You did – you did the right thing, I suppose, like you always do.”</p><p>“I don’t know if it was the right thing,” Harry said. “Now. Now, I don’t – sometimes I wish I didn’t come back. I don’t think it’s fair that I got to come back when so many other people didn’t, that I got to come back when there have been loads of times I wish I hadn’t.”</p><p>“That’s not your fault,” Malfoy said sharply. “You couldn’t have done anything about that, you nutter. You think anyone that died in the war would have thought that? They would have wanted you to live, and that doesn’t mean you have to be happy about it all the godforsaken time. <em>You</em> get to be upset, or none of us do, really. Get over yourself.”</p><p>Harry’s heart hurt. “Wow,” he managed to say dryly, “thanks for that advice, Malfoy.”</p><p>“You’re welcome,” Malfoy told him primly. “And.” He looked at Harry side-long. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you came back.”</p><p>Harry looked at him back. “Me too,” he said, and meant it.</p><p>“You’re alive,” Malfoy said. “Start acting like it.”</p><p>Harry kept looking at him. He watched Malfoy’s jaw twitch, a fine blond hair falling over his eyes. He slid off the table abruptly.</p><p>Malfoy startled. “Where are you going?”</p><p>“To the garden,” Harry called out from behind his shoulder.</p><p>“To the – it’s <em>raining</em> – Potter, when I said act like you’re alive I didn’t mean act like you’ve lost the plot completely and go out in the pouring rain!”</p><p>Harry walked through the corridors of sprawling, once loved and once hated Grimmauld Place till he’d gotten to the doors to the garden. He threw the doors open and went, as Malfoy had said, out in the pouring rain. The garden had always been the only part of Grimmauld Place that he’d liked, straggling and airy with dead grass and flowers and weeds.</p><p><em>You’re alive</em>, Malfoy had said.</p><p>He did not cast an Impervius, but he did take off his glasses, tucking them in the pocket of the new jumper Malfoy had got him. There was a storm on the way. He stayed out while the rain kept hammering down harder, until he was drenched, hair a soaking mess and jeans sticking to his skin, and he felt alive.</p><p>“I always said you were a madman,” Malfoy said dramatically from behind him.</p><p>Harry was not surprised Malfoy had come after him. He turned around to see Malfoy standing in front of the doors on the threshold of the garden. He smiled, and said, “Takes one to know one.”</p><p>“You’re going to get a cold and I will mock you mercilessly,” Malfoy informed him.</p><p>“Malfoy,” Harry said, ignoring this, “try the lift now.”</p><p>“I think you need to go to St. Mungo’s,” Malfoy said.</p><p>“No, really,” Harry insisted, spreading his arms out. “Try the lift.”</p><p>“Not only can you not carry me, we will slip and fall and <em>die</em>.”</p><p>“Oh?” Harry grinned. “Are you scared?”</p><p>Malfoy sputtered. “<em>Scared</em>. I’m not <em>scared</em>. You wish, Potter. Fine. Heads up.”</p><p>And he started running, throwing himself into Harry’s arms, and Harry caught him easily. They were both laughing louder than the rain. Harry tried to lift him up and failed miserably, so that they almost slipped and died like Malfoy had said they would. Malfoy laughed louder and wrapped his legs around Harry so that he would not fall into the grass.</p><p>“Sorry,” he said, breathless. His head was raised above Harry’s and his mouth was a kiss away, arms securely around Harry’s neck. A first clap of thunder rolled in the background, and almost as though he couldn’t help it, Malfoy lifted a trembling hand to brush Harry’s hair away and touched the lightning scar on his forehead, brushing his hand over until it came to rest at Harry’s jaw.</p><p>“Sorry,” he said again, and Harry kissed him.</p><p>He waited for hesitation and there was none: Malfoy kissed him back right away, legs around Harry’s waist while the rain kept falling and drenching them both, like they had hurtling towards this point for months or years. Thunder crackled in the distance. They were both freezing cold. Malfoy’s hand moved up from Harry’s jaw into Harry’s hair and Harry tightened his grip on Malfoy. He had been wanting to do this for so long and he wanted to do it right and he wanted not to stop, not now, not ever. He had to be slow and he had to be gentle. But he had been hungry for too long, and Malfoy tasted like rain and he was gasping into Harry’s mouth, his hold on Harry’s hair so tight it hurt.</p><p>Harry moved forwards through the door and stumbled inside. He heard Malfoy say something about a room, a bed, and moved up the stairs blindly, one hand on the railing and the other holding Malfoy up. He got up the stairs to the first floor and slammed Malfoy up against the wall, let go of Malfoy’s mouth to drag his teeth over Malfoy’s throat and unbutton his soaking jeans. He felt Malfoy find his glasses and put them back on his face, laughing. Malfoy peeled his shirt off, impatient like he always was, tossed it in some corner where it would be a shrivelled-up, wet pile in the morning, and place a kiss under Harry’s ear, on his collarbone, his shoulder, on his mouth. Harry smiled and Malfoy moved away to place two fingers on the two dimples on either side of Harry’s face, and kissed him while Harry was still laughing. Harry reached to take off Malfoy’s shirt, and saw the way Malfoy hesitated. He kissed the scar he had left on Malfoy’s skin, and looked at the Dark Mark and did not flinch.</p><p>“We should – bed,” Malfoy said, but Harry kissed him again until he was saying, “What was I – what did I say – ”</p><p>“I don’t remember,” Harry said honestly, and sank down to his knees.</p><p>They didn’t make it to the bed.</p><p>────────────</p><p>He woke up with sunlight warm on his face: a crick in his neck and Malfoy sleeping next to him, their limbs all tangled together.</p><p>Harry looked at Malfoy and touched his mouth wonderingly.</p><p>They were in Harry’s bed; he remembered picking themselves up and stumbling into Harry’s bedroom in-between kisses. Harry looked cautiously around and saw a trail of their clothes leading away from the door. He thought of Kreacher and shuddered, hoped that he’d made himself scarce.</p><p>He looked back at Malfoy. The love bite on Malfoy’s neck was more proof that yesterday hadn’t been a dream, it had been real.</p><p>Harry shuffled against his pillow and kept looking at him, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks and pale hair kissed. He tucked his free hand under his cheek. The other one had intertwined itself with Malfoy’s in the night. Harry lifted their entwined hands together and pressed a kiss to Malfoy’s knuckles, and then hoped no one would ever know he’d done that.</p><p>One of Malfoy’s eyes cracked open.</p><p>“Hello,” Harry said. They had woken up together twice before, but he felt his heartbeat quicken. He didn’t know where they were going from here.</p><p>Malfoy looked at him for a long time and then he leaned over and kissed Harry, once, lightly, soft. And it was<em> stupid</em>, both of them had horrible morning breath and sleep in their eyes, but Harry kissed him back and was ridiculously, incredibly happy.</p><p>Malfoy let go and rolled away to stare up at the ceiling. “So. You’ve done that before.”</p><p>“I mean, yeah, with Ginny, but with Seamus too, in the summer,” Harry said.</p><p>“<em>Finnegan</em>?” Malfoy sounded scandalised. “I cannot believe this.”</p><p>“It was a one-time thing.”</p><p>Malfoy laughed. “Your love life is a <em>mess</em>. First there’s Cho Chang. But she’s got a boyfriend, so you go with Parvati Patil to the Yule Ball, who, by the way, had a crush on you for all of fourth year until you took her to the ball and spent the whole time glaring over at Cho Chang, culminating in you and Weasley ditching the <em>Patil twins</em> to go take a romantic moonlit stroll together.”</p><p>“A <em>what</em>?”</p><p>“Then,” Malfoy went on, clearly entertained, “you do go out with Cho Chang after all, except you break up because you’re a horrible boyfriend. Then you go out with your best friend’s little sister, who had previously been dating Dean Thomas. You break up with your best friend’s sister and shag Seamus Finnegan, who is the best friend of your ex-girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend. And <em>then</em> Dean Thomas, your ex-girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend and Seamus Finnegan’s best friend, kisses you.”</p><p>When he put it like <em>that</em> it did sound a bit ridiculous. “And then there’s you,” Harry said.</p><p>“And then there’s me,” Malfoy agreed, and let out a long breath.</p><p>“Hey, how come you know so much about my love life?” Harry said, grinning.</p><p>“Because I had to make fun of you, it was my moral duty,” Malfoy informed him virtuously.</p><p>“Mm, sure. You’ve done that before too,” said Harry, “or – ”</p><p>“With Blaise,” Malfoy said.</p><p>“<em>Blaise</em>?” Harry demanded. He could not believe he had thought Blaise was all right. Blaise was clearly not all right at all, he was a –</p><p>“Before sixth year, obviously,” Malfoy said. “Blaise mostly tried it on with everyone, and we were in the same dormitory, or – well, it wasn’t like this.”</p><p>Harry swallowed. “Not for me either. It wasn’t – it wasn’t like this.”</p><p>Malfoy laughed helplessly and covered his face with his hands. “Potter, we’re supposed to be going back to Hogwarts tomorrow and we haven’t even done any packing.”</p><p>“I can’t believe you’re calling me Potter now,” Harry said, amused.</p><p>“I will always call you Potter,” Malfoy said darkly. “I am not so lost that I’ve forgotten my vow never to call you by your first name.”</p><p>“Did you make a vow about that?” Harry laughed into his pillow. “I thought of you by your first name lots of times last year. Draco.”</p><p>This made Malfoy blush but he said sternly, “Well you should have respected the fact that we are childhood nemeses.”</p><p>“Childhood nemeses who just kissed?” Harry asked.</p><p>This made Malfoy turn pinker, so Harry pressed a kiss to his bare shoulder.</p><p>“No, we are disgusting,” Malfoy said, but he leaned into the touch, “we are not even human beings right now. I am verklempt. I can’t believe we didn’t make it to the bed.”</p><p>“You are plebeian and awful,” Harry commiserated, and Malfoy whacked him with a pillow before getting up to go into the bathroom.</p><p>Harry stayed in bed and smiled.</p><p>He didn’t know what they were doing, what they had been doing all year, and he didn’t know whether Malfoy felt the same. But he did not want to mess it up.</p><p>He went down and made breakfast, bacon and eggs and toast. Malfoy joined him after, hopping on the counter and distracting Harry with his long legs and the lovebites Harry had left on his skin.</p><p>“So we’re – ” Malfoy hesitated. “At Hogwarts, what are we – ”</p><p>Harry’s heart sank. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, we’ll just – ”</p><p>“I’m not – ”</p><p>“Nothing has to change,” Harry said. “I mean, we can wait, we don’t need to tell everyone – ”</p><p>Malfoy exhaled a long, shaky breath. “Yeah, alright. We’ll wait.”</p><p>They spent the rest of the day searching for all their belongings, and not summoning Kreacher to help just in case he pointed out darkly the mess they’d made yesterday. Malfoy’s especially were everywhere, in Harry’s room and the drawing room, all over the place.</p><p>Harry felt a spike of anxiety; he <em>didn’t</em> want to leave. But it was Hogwarts, and he missed Ron and Hermione and Ginny and Luna, the rest of the Gryffindors and all the eighth years, McGonagall and Hagrid, the view of the grounds from his and Malfoy’s window. They’d said nothing had to change.</p><p>Now he could link his arms around Malfoy’s neck, place a sloppy kiss on his cheek and ignore his pretend grimace, hold Malfoy’s hand while Malfoy delivered a long monologue about the parting of ways to the telly. He had never thought he could have this. He would never have let himself believe it.</p><p>They went back to Hogwarts together; Ron and Hermione threw themselves at him, and gave Malfoy a tiny spasm that looked like a nod. Blaise greeted them both impassionately, and Daphne immediately dragged Malfoy away to play with his hair.</p><p>Harry went to their room and looked at the door that Malfoy had hit in his face, with <em>Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy </em>still written upon it. He let his head rest against it, briefly, and felt ridiculous, but he said, “Thanks.”</p><p>When he and Malfoy came up together, Malfoy hesitated and Harry said, “Let’s just – ” and he nodded towards Malfoy’s bed and Malfoy looked relieved. They brushed their teeth together, making faces at each other in the mirror, which made fun of them back. They slept together again, and Harry didn’t have any nightmares. He woke up without Malfoy, with all his blankets tossed away and one sheet half-spread across him, and his hand outstretched towards the warmth where Malfoy had been before, a light breeze playing out from their window.</p><p>After that, classes fell in their predictable rhythm. Everyone was so busy frantically studying for exams in a month and a half, and trying to keep up with their workload, that no one seemed to notice when Malfoy and Harry sat in the same chair, when they held hands on the way to class or played with each other’s hair (whatever Malfoy had said, Harry had a sneaking suspicion he liked Harry’s hair the way it was). Both of them were hardly in their room most of the time, and they didn’t have much time for anything more than kissing.</p><p>But they slept in the same bed now. Malfoy had charmed them to move together. The thing about being able to touch Malfoy was that Harry couldn’t bring himself to stop.</p><p>They’d been back at Hogwarts for a few days when Malfoy burst into the room during their free period, grabbed Harry’s arm, and started pulling him away from his Transfiguration homework.</p><p>Harry let him do this without much fuss. “I thought you were studying with Blaise and Daphne in the library?” he asked as Malfoy dragged him down the stairs and out of the common room, past Justin and Terry, who saw that Harry was being kidnapped by a madman and waved at him merrily.</p><p>“This is urgent,” Malfoy said, “you will not <em>believe </em>what they have done.” He came to a stop but didn’t let Harry’s arm go. “They <em>hid</em> my <em>gramophone.</em>”</p><p>“Er,” Harry said.</p><p>“They said I played the Dirty Dancing soundtrack too much!” Malfoy went on hysterically. “They said they were tired of hearing it in the common room!”</p><p>“Well,” Harry said.</p><p>“Did they appreciate the fact that I managed to make her play the Dirty Dancing soundtrack at all? No, Potter. They did not.”</p><p>“Did you,” Harry ventured cautiously, “did you say...her?”</p><p>“Franny!” Malfoy said, like it was obvious.</p><p>“You named your gramophone. You named your gramophone <em>Franny</em>?”</p><p>Malfoy fixed him with a contemptuous look. “I’ve got to find her before Filch does. She is my pride and joy.”</p><p>“Okay, okay,” Harry said. “Did you search the common room and the bedrooms?”</p><p>“Yes,” Malfoy said, looking distraught, “and I asked Susan, because everyone knows you go to Hufflepuffs to help you find things and she couldn’t find it there, and then Padma rudely stole her away from me.”</p><p>“Okay, we’ll find it,” Harry assured him. “Er, her.”</p><p>They weren’t strictly meant to be wandering the halls even during their free periods, but Harry was swinging their joined hands back and forth, and the corridors were mostly empty except for a couple of students who mostly scuttled away when they caught sight of Harry and Malfoy.</p><p>He could not quite bring himself to say “<em>Accio </em>Franny!” instead of <em>“Accio </em>Malfoy’s gramophone”, but they went on searching through every place Malfoy thought she was likely to be. Harry did try suggesting asking Blaise and Daphne, but even he knew they would just laugh. Everyone, even Hermione, who was quite impressed that the music worked at Hogwarts and shocked that Malfoy had watched a Muggle film at all, was getting pretty tired of hearing ‘(I’ve Had) The Time of My Life’ for the seventeenth hundred time. Except for Harry, that is.</p><p>They found Franny – the gramophone, in an empty classroom, under the desk. Malfoy bent down to caress her – it – horrifyingly, and Harry leaned against the desk, long-suffering.</p><p>“Just let me see if she still works,” Malfoy said, and a few moments later the opening notes of ‘Hungry Eyes’ started playing.</p><p>“Alright, it works, turn it off,” said Harry, his elbows on the desk.</p><p>“One second.”</p><p>“Malfoy, turn it – ” Harry trailed off. “Malfoy.”</p><p>“It’s not working,” said Malfoy, frowning.</p><p>“Malfoy,” Harry hissed, “look in front of you.”</p><p>“What?” Malfoy looked up and followed Harry’s gaze to the door, where Mrs. Norris had appeared, watching them suspiciously. He paled.</p><p>“Turn it off,” Harry whispered, “turn it off quick.”</p><p>“I <em>can’t</em>,” Malfoy said under his breath, and Mrs. Norris stared at them for another silent moment, before turning around and padding out the door.</p><p>“She’s going to tell Filch and I’ve got my Cloak in the common room,” Harry said, “turn that thing off!”</p><p>“It’s not working!”</p><p>“Try a Silencing Spell!”</p><p>“I <em>did</em>, it won’t work because after Blaise and Daphne kept Silencing it I cast another spell on so no one could – ”</p><p>“Leave it, then!”</p><p>Malfoy looked aghast. “Leave <em>Franny</em>?”</p><p>“Alright, fine.” Harry hauled him up. “We’re making a run for it, then.”</p><p>With Franny under Malfoy’s arm, they made a dash for the door, turning right and retracing their steps back to the common room, with the music crooning <em>I’ve been meaning to tell you, I’ve got this feeling that won’t subside </em>as they ran. They made it all the way to the third floor, near a classroom door, when Malfoy, pink-faced and breathless, skidded on the floor, almost stumbling. Harry caught his arm and pulled him up right before he fell.</p><p>“Thanks,” Malfoy said, and licked his lips, and really, who could blame Harry for bringing him in by his arm and kissing him? If anyone blamed Harry they had to blame Malfoy for kissing him back and pressing him against the door of the classroom, while the music was playing in the background: <em>With these hungry eyes, one look at you and I can’t disguise. </em></p><p>The door behind them opened and they both fell backwards in a heap on the stone floor, Franny falling to the side and miraculously still playing, <em>I’ve got hungry eyes, I feel the magic between you and I. </em></p><p>McGonagall and a class of tittering sixth-years were staring at them.</p><p>“My office,” McGonagall said. “Now.”</p><p>────────────</p><p>McGonagall folded her hands on her desk and stared them down: Harry, on one chair, fidgeting, and Malfoy, pale on another chair, a respectable distance away. Franny had been stashed behind McGonagall’s desk but she was still singing softly, and Malfoy was biting his lip, looking over there and not looking at Harry or McGonagall. Malfoy’s mouth was swollen from before. Harry did not want to think about his hair. He could not bring himself to look directly at McGonagall either. He really wanted to die, preferably now but any time today could be arranged.</p><p>“Are you aware that Mr. Filch has been searching the entire castle for the source of this music?” McGonagall asked finally. “Exams are a month and a half away, and our students need to be focused and concentrated in class. My sixth-years had a very important lesson that was interrupted by the sound of the music and your – untimely entrance.”</p><p>“We’re really sorry, Professor,” Harry said at once. “It was an accident, it was my fault, really – ”</p><p>“No it wasn’t!” Malfoy said. “I’m so sorry, Professor, I didn’t mean to, I fully accept any punishment, it’s only that I can’t turn it off – ”</p><p>“We really couldn’t, you can try yourself – ”</p><p>“Please don’t confiscate Franny,” Malfoy burst out pleadingly.</p><p>McGonagall’s lips pursed. “Franny?”</p><p>“The gramophone,” Harry explained.</p><p>McGonagall looked between the two of them and said, somewhat faintly, “I did do this to myself, didn’t I? I suppose this was the best outcome.”</p><p>“Er,” Harry said.</p><p>“Professor, please,” said Malfoy earnestly, “it wasn’t her fault at all, and Franny’s got a whole life ahead of her – the Dirty Dancing soundtrack is a gift that we were spreading to the rest of the school, we’re encouraging connections to Muggle culture and it’s really quite a good film – ”</p><p>Completely unexpectedly, McGonagall’s lips twitched again and she laughed.</p><p>Harry and Malfoy were floored into sudden silence. They exchanged startled looks.</p><p>“Professor?” Harry said.</p><p>McGonagall recovered herself and became steely-eyed once more. “I apologise. You only reminded me of someone just then, Mr. Malfoy. But I will not confiscate – Franny. I will take ten points from Gryffindor and Slytherin instead, and both of you have separate detentions on Saturday. Mr. Potter, you will be helping Slughorn clean out old Potions cauldrons in the morning. Mr. Malfoy, you will be with me, grading papers. I suggest you keep your gramophone – ” McGonagall cast a glance at Franny, still merrily playing ‘Hungry Eyes’, and looked briefly to the heavens as if to grant her patience before looking away. “In your common room. Mr. Malfoy, you are dismissed. Mr. Potter, stay here with me for a moment.”</p><p>Malfoy took Franny from McGonagall’s arms, and hesitated. Harry nodded at him before he left, closing the door behind him.</p><p>“I had my doubts about putting you two in a room together,” McGonagall said. “You always did seem to bring out the worst in each other.” When Harry bristled, she smiled. “I don’t think that’s true anymore, or perhaps it never was true. Regardless, I must admit I expected you to show up complaining about it within the first week. I’m glad you did not. I’ve been meaning to talk to you. Do you know what day it will be in a week, Harry?”</p><p>Harry drummed his fingers against his knee. He knew what McGonagall wanted him to say. “May 2nd.”</p><p>He didn’t want to think about it. Last year they’d gone out drinking, and Hermione had wanted him to come to the war memorial, and he could not have brought himself to do it. The rest of them had gone and Harry had stayed at Grimmauld Place with Luna. He had wanted the war to be over. It was just a day. He didn’t like the way Hermione held on to him and Ron tighter, like they would vanish, or the way the Weasleys all got hollow-eyed, or the way the members of the D.A. looked at him hungrily, like they were in awe.</p><p>“May 2nd,” McGonagall repeated softly. “I thought you might like to speak at the feast that day, after we have our moment of silence.”</p><p>Harry swallowed. “I – I don’t know.”</p><p>“I understand if you would not,” McGonagall said. “If you do, let me know. And I assume you will be going into the Aurors after school – ”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Harry said again. “I mean – ” He was, of course, what else could he do? “I might not,” he finished lamely.</p><p>McGonagall’s gaze became gentler. “If you don’t, there’s been some talk about introducing a wizarding program for Muggleborn and half-blood children, to commingle with pureblood children – I thought perhaps you might like to be apart of it.”</p><p><em>You’re good with kids</em>, Malfoy had said. “I,” Harry said, “well, I – yeah, I would. I would.” He got up from the chair, and stopped. “Professor? Who was it that Malfoy reminded you of?”</p><p>McGonagall looked a bit misty-eyed. “Mr. Black.”</p><p>“Oh,” Harry said.</p><p>“It was a bit silly,” she went on, “but I almost felt in that moment that James and Sirius were here together again.”</p><p>Harry reached up to rub at his eyes and sniffled. He and McGonagall shared a moment of mutual understanding silence, before he thought to say, “You mean – my dad and Sirius, they – ” He could not think of a way to phase this delicately other than <em>snogged in empty classrooms</em> when he wasn’t sure whether McGonagall had caught on to what he and Malfoy had been doing.</p><p>“Oh, goodness no,” McGonagall said, “or, occasionally – I suspect, at least – it was far more your father and mother that – or Mr. Black and Remus – ”</p><p>It felt like someone had Stunned him behind his back. He grasped for the door’s handle and held on to it for dear life. “Oh,” he said again.</p><p>He’d never known.</p><p>“Yes.” McGonagall’s gaze was sympathetic. “You know, Harry, that Hogwarts will always have a place for you, however many years down the road you choose to return. I daresay any Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher would be thrilled to train you as a replacement.”</p><p>Harry stared at her. It was as though she’d read his mind, things he’d never even thought to say out loud, things he would never have admitted to wanting. He thought about saying <em>thank you</em>, for this and for putting him in a room with Malfoy in the first place, but he could not quite find the words.</p><p>“Good afternoon, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall said, eyes glimmering, and nodded towards the door.</p><p>“Good afternoon, Professor,” Harry managed to say, hoarsely.</p><p>He shut the door behind him and wiped at his eyes furiously, took a walk out past the Quidditch pitch and the Herbology greenhouses.</p><p>He missed Sirius and Lupin so much that he sat down behind one of the greenhouses and let himself cry like he hadn’t since fifth year, mourn what had been lost and what would never return. And the stupidest thing of all, the thing he’d known all this time, the thing he kept thinking was, <em>not fair. </em></p><p>But Malfoy was right. They would have wanted him to live.</p><p>Like Harry had summoned him, he saw Malfoy’s white-blond head walking over to the castle when he stood up and scrubbed a hand over his face, and ran to catch up with him.</p><p>“Are you stalking me again, Potter?” Malfoy asked, something odd about his voice as Harry slowed down to his pace.</p><p>“I didn’t know you were out here!” Harry protested, walking along with him and kicking at some rocks in his way, tilting his head up to feel the sun on his face. “How’s Franny, then?”</p><p>This made Malfoy smile a tiny bit. “She’s in the common room. I fixed it. It was Blaise and Daphne’s incredibly rude idea of a prank.”</p><p>“Oh. I think McGonagall.” He didn’t know how to say this. “You know, figured it out. What we were doing.”</p><p>“I rather thought so,” Malfoy said dryly.</p><p>“You don’t. Mind?”</p><p>Malfoy was not looking at him at all. “I don’t mind that she knows.”</p><p>Harry was so relieved he almost wanted to insist that Malfoy stopped walking so he could calm down. “Me neither.”</p><p>“But I think we should stop,” Malfoy continued, gaze firmly ahead.</p><p>“Stop…what?” Harry came to a halt, grabbing Malfoy’s sleeve to make him stay in place. “I don’t – ”</p><p>“This,” Malfoy said, pale and unhappy-looking. “It doesn’t make any sense.”</p><p>“It makes sense to me,” Harry said, hurt.</p><p>“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Malfoy said, looking up at him wildly, “you’re not – don’t you know what day it’s going to be?”</p><p>Harry let go of his arm and took a step back. “Not you too. It’s just a <em>day</em>.”</p><p>“It’s a reminder,” Malfoy said. “And, alright, I’m not trying to – I’m just saying that this couldn’t ever possibly work. We should go back to like it was before. It’ll be better for everyone. We won’t have to worry about it as much – the papers would <em>crucify </em>you if they ever – ”</p><p>“I don’t care what the papers say!” Harry said. “I won, they can leave me the fuck alone now – ”</p><p>“I care,” said Malfoy, “I care that they’re going to hate you for it – ”</p><p>“They’ll get over it, it doesn’t matter – ”</p><p>“You think that <em>now</em>, but when you realise later – it’s better, if we go back to like it was before. You said nothing had to change.”</p><p>“We can’t go back to like it was before.”</p><p>“Why not?” Malfoy was staring at him, flushed and desperate. “We can go back, and it’ll be the same – ”</p><p>“We can’t go back to like it was before because I’m in love with you, you idiot!” Harry shouted.</p><p>A flock of birds scattered away at the sound of his voice and Malfoy looked at him shocked, like someone had suddenly hit him. “You don’t. You can’t,” he said, and reached one hand out like he wanted to touch Harry but let it fall to the side.</p><p>“Well, I am,” Harry said, swallowing.</p><p>“I don’t – I’ve got class,” Malfoy said, and looked at him for a long time, pale and with his hand outstretched again – before he turned around and walked back into the castle, leaving Harry standing there, impossibly alone in the sunny afternoon.</p><p>────────────</p><p>He went to sit at the top of the empty Astronomy Tower after Malfoy had gone, because the alternatives were staying outside staring pathetically at the castle or going back to the rest of the eighth years, and he didn’t think being around people was a good idea, right now.</p><p>He shouldn’t have said it like that. He shouldn’t have said it at all, but if he had – he should have planned it out, explained –</p><p>He looked out at the sky, thought about Malfoy disarming Dumbledore on this tower and Malfoy laughing into his collarbone in his bed.</p><p>Malfoy would have probably called this brooding. Malfoy also clearly didn’t care what he did, so.</p><p>He couldn’t even go to his <em>room</em>, he couldn’t think of anything other than what he had lost: the feeling in his throat, the pricking of his eyes, the <em>want</em>.</p><p>He heard the familiar murmur of Ron and Hermione bickering and then falling silent, settling themselves down on either side of him. He wasn’t surprised they’d come, but he was hopelessly relieved. They were the only people he trusted himself to be able to be around right now.</p><p>“We’ve been looking for you, Harry,” Hermione said, voice trembling. She leaned against him. “We only thought to check the Marauder’s Map – well. What are you doing up here?”</p><p>Harry shrugged. “Just thinking.” His voice was hoarse and sounded wrong to his own ears.</p><p>“So you know, mate,” said Ron, careful, “McGonagall’s sixth year Transfiguration class, sort of spread a bit of a story around, about you and Malfoy.”</p><p>This made Harry look up. Ron and Hermione were perfectly calm. They only looked like they were nervous for his reaction.</p><p>“And you’re,” Harry said slowly, “alright with it?”</p><p>“Alright with what?”</p><p>“With me and Malfoy being – ” Harry hesitated.</p><p>“What <em>are</em> you and Malfoy?” asked Hermione gently.</p><p>“Well, I.” Harry concentrated on looking out the view of the Astronomy Tower. “I think I love him.”</p><p>Ron inhaled sharply.</p><p>“I mean, I know,” Harry amended, “I know I love him, I’m – sorry.”</p><p>But he <em>wasn’t </em>sorry, he realised, even though he should have been, for Hermione’s sake at least. He wasn’t sorry at all. He wouldn’t take it back for anything.</p><p>“It isn’t as though it comes as much of a surprise,” Hermione said faintly. “And it’s not your fault, Harry.”</p><p>“What,” Harry said. “What do you mean, it’s not a surprise?”</p><p>Hermione looked taken aback. “Well Harry, I’ve known since sixth year.”</p><p>
  <em>“What?” </em>
</p><p>“I wasn’t quite sure until this year,” Hermione said, as though this was supposed to be reassuring.</p><p>Harry gaped at her. “But how can you – no, I didn’t even <em>like</em> Malfoy in sixth year, I hated him!”</p><p>“We <em>talked </em>about this!” Hermione insisted. “At The Three Broomsticks before Christmas! <em>And </em>at the very start of this year. I told you about the pamphlets!”</p><p>Harry winced and covered his face with his hands. “Please don’t tell me anymore.”</p><p>“<em>I </em>didn’t figure it out till Easter,” Ron told him. “Only, then you were hanging out with Malfoy at Teddy’s birthday party, and you spent all of Easter break with him, and every letter was just full of mentions about him – Ginny told me she’d known since Christmas.”</p><p>“At Christmas!” Harry said hysterically, looking up. “I didn’t even know at Christmas!”</p><p>Hermione was frowning. “Do you mean to say, this, with Malfoy...is recent?”</p><p>“Of course it’s recent!” Harry said. “It’s been one week!”</p><p>Ron shook his head disbelievingly. “But there’s all the <em>touching </em>– ”</p><p>“And what about when you came down to breakfast in Slytherin robes, and when we told you, you said your robes must have gotten mixed up with Malfoy’s?” Hermione pointed out.</p><p>“We <em>share</em> a <em>room</em>! Our robes honestly did get mixed up!” Harry said, scandalised. “I can’t believe you’ve thought I’ve been shagging Malfoy all this time!”</p><p>“I can’t believe you haven’t been!” Hermione said. “Or that you’re still calling him by his last name.”</p><p>“I can’t believe you both!” Harry said, and was startled into laughing, until all three of them were laughing and clutching at each other’s shoulders, voices echoing in the empty tower.</p><p>“Love, though,” Ron said finally. “Love is a lot.”</p><p>“Yeah.” Harry’s laughter died in his throat. “And he. Well, he doesn’t feel the same, so.” He blinked, twice.</p><p>Hermione shook her head. “That, I really don’t believe.”</p><p>“He doesn’t,” Harry said, not particularly wanting to get into the specifics about telling him and having him run away, looking horrified. Harry’s eyes burned. He wished he had some Firewhiskey.</p><p>“I think you should ask him,” Hermione said, pragmatic. “Ask him the truth and tell him the truth.”</p><p>Ron reached into his pocket and handed Harry the Marauder’s Map, clapping him on the shoulder. “Use your old stalking skills from sixth year.”</p><p>“Fuck off,” Harry said, laughing gratefully and taking it.</p><p>“It’ll be dinner in a few hours,” Ron said, standing up and offering a hand to both Harry and Hermione. “Better tell him before then.”</p><p>“I did tell him,” Harry said, “and he left. He doesn’t – he really doesn’t feel the same way.”</p><p>“So your plan is to, what, avoid him for the rest of the year?” Hermione asked skeptically.</p><p>“I reckon he was scared,” Ron said unexpectedly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’ve seen him, Harry, and I don’t believe he doesn’t feel the same way. Come on, all of school he was just trying to get your attention, wasn’t he? Bit embarrassing, really.”</p><p>“You didn’t hear him,” Harry said, but all he could think of was Malfoy’s constant presence at Hogwarts and Malfoy’s shaking hand touching his scar. “You’re – you’re really alright with this?”</p><p>Ron shrugged. “I trust your judgement. Mind you,” he added as he, Harry, and Hermione started walking out, “Mum will freak when you and Ginny both bring home Slytherins.”</p><p>Hermione laughed and Harry felt warm inside. He went with them to the common room and burrowed Lisa’s owl. At the threshold to his and Malfoy’s room, he rested a hand against the door affectionately before opening his trunk and digging in to find the letter from the Aurors. He thought of Malfoy in the rain, Ron and Hermione next to him, McGonagall’s suggestion. Snape’s words, <em>pig for the slaughter, </em>and waking up from King’s Cross like it had been a dream, or the rest of his life had been a dream and that was what was real. He thought, <em>this does not have to be all I can be</em>. <em>This is not what I want. </em></p><p>He sent a reply declining their offer.</p><p>────────────</p><p>He found the dot labelled <em>Draco Malfoy </em>at the Quidditch Pitch.</p><p>The Slytherin team were finishing up their practice when Harry arrived at the field, chattering with each other as they walked off the field, leaving it empty behind them. He saw Malfoy sitting at the top of the stands, the sunlight gleaming on his hair.</p><p>He made his way to the top of the stands and sat down on the seat behind Malfoy, because he did not think he would be able to look at Malfoy directly.</p><p>“Stalking me again, I see,” Malfoy said, voice quivering.</p><p>Harry looked out at the field in front of them, blinked against sudden sunlight, took a deep breath in and let it out. “Yeah.”</p><p>“Just take it back,” Malfoy said, words stumbling out of him in a rush. “Take it back, and it’ll be alright. You didn’t mean it.”</p><p>“I did mean it,” Harry said, wretched. “I’ve never felt this way before. And I swear, it’s the truth. And I owe it all to you. And. I’m singing the Dirty Dancing soundtrack, aren’t I.”</p><p>When he looked behind him, Malfoy was smiling and smiling at him like he couldn’t help it. “You are,” he agreed.</p><p>Harry looked away because he thought if Malfoy kept smiling he might do something stupid like kiss him. “I’m sorry that you don’t want me to mean it,” he said in a low voice. “But I do.”</p><p>“You don’t <em>see</em>,” Malfoy despaired, “you don’t understand. You like saving people, I know you do, and I might as well say it since we both know it’s true, that you saved me – but that doesn’t mean you – ” His voice stumbled. “Love me, or – we <em>hated </em>each other, all I do is insult you, and I am – don’t you understand what I’m like? I’m irritating and I talk too much and I’m not <em>good</em> and you can’t change that, any of it.”</p><p>“I don’t want to change it!” Harry said, bewildered. “I <em>like</em> it. And I don’t think I saved you. I think you saved me.”</p><p>“You can’t say things like that!” Malfoy raged, and Harry turned around to see him looking at Harry like he was a nightmare or dream come to life.</p><p>“I don’t understand,” Harry said, and this made Malfoy falter and lose his thread.</p><p>“You don’t,” Malfoy said suddenly. “Oh my God, you really don’t.”</p><p>“Well, how am I supposed to understand?” Harry snapped. “I don’t know what you’re on about – I’m sorry, I can’t change the way I feel, and I don’t want to, but you’re my friend first and if – if that’s what you still want, then I’ll – ”</p><p>“Oh,” Malfoy said. “Oh.”</p><p>“Oh, <em>what</em>,” Harry said.</p><p>Malfoy leaned forward and grabbed hold of his collar. Harry stared back, startled. “Harry,” he said quietly, “in fifth year you came back from the summer and I wanted to kiss you, and I hated myself for it. In sixth year, you were everywhere and I hated you for it. Last year you were my only hope. Now, you’re, and this is incredibly depressing and mortifying, my best friend. Every time I went over to Nuwa and Ester’s, all the girls did was tease me about you. You are so <em>stupid</em>, you know, you have to know, you <em>have </em>to know.”</p><p>“Know what,” Harry said, voice barely more than a whisper, looking at Malfoy’s mouth.</p><p>“That I obviously have been embarrassingly in love with you for going on a year now, and everyone is incredibly sick of it, and if you look at me like that, with your <em>stupid</em> eyes,” Malfoy said, and did not finish, and leaned in to kiss him instead.</p><p>Harry kissed him back slowly, like they had all the time in the world, a hand on Malfoy’s neck, feeling incredibly giddy that they were here on the stands where anyone could see them in the sun.</p><p>“What was that about my eyes?” Harry said, pulling away and grinning.</p><p>Malfoy placed two fingers distractedly on Harry’s dimples and said, “You are incredibly full of yourself, I have been saying this for years – ”</p><p>“I cannot believe <em>you </em>of all people are telling me <em>I’m </em>full of myself – ”</p><p>“It’s the truth,” Malfoy said, moving his fingers into Harry’s hair. Harry turned back and rested his back against Malfoy’s, felt Malfoy breathe shakily in and out and press a ghost of a kiss against Harry’s hair. “Your hair’s got gold in it in the sun,” he added, quiet like he didn’t even mean for Harry to hear, tracing the line of Harry’s shoulder.</p><p>“What about the rest of it?” Harry asked. “Is that the truth?”</p><p>“Is it not enough that I have bared my soul to you and discussed emotions,” Malfoy asked melodramatically.</p><p>“<em>I </em>bared my soul to you and you went to Arithmancy class,” Harry pointed out.</p><p>“Yes, but I didn’t believe you really meant it,” Malfoy said.</p><p>“Is that why you came over here to sit dramatically on the stands?”</p><p>“And where were you, exactly?”</p><p>This made Harry fall silent. Malfoy cackled triumphantly.</p><p>Malfoy said, after a moment, “You <em>did </em>say nothing had to change, the very first time we kissed – ”</p><p>“I meant we could still talk, and stuff.”</p><p>“Talk, and stuff,” Malfoy echoed. Harry just <em>knew </em>he was arching one of his perfectly groomed eyebrows.</p><p>“Ugh, you know what I mean,” said Harry, shoving his shoulder.</p><p>“I know what you mean,” Malfoy said quietly. “It’s the truth.”</p><p>“So we’re what,” Harry asked thoughtfully, “dating?”</p><p>“I <em>guess</em>,” Malfoy said, putting his face in Harry’s hair briefly to groan. “You’re not supposed to say it, Potter, honestly.”</p><p>“Just because you’re allergic to emotions.”</p><p>“Yes, exactly, and because it’s a source of shame to me that I’m <em>dating </em>a Gryffindor. Do you know what my mother would say? Actually,” Malfoy mused, “she might be pleased.”</p><p>Harry thought about Narcissa leading Sirius to his death and Narcissa leaning over him in the forest, her hair falling over his face. He hoped she wouldn’t mind that he loved her son, because he knew how much she meant to Malfoy.</p><p>“I don’t think it’s a source of shame to you,” Harry said, grinning. “You did say that since fifth year – ”</p><p>“I was under duress, I take it back!” Malfoy squawked.</p><p>“Oh my God, you did,” Harry said, delighted. “You had a crush on me in fifth year. I thought you hated me.”</p><p>“I did,” Malfoy grumbled, “my hormones betrayed me and it’s – oh, whatever, you’re a bastard, Potter.”</p><p>“You called me Harry before.”</p><p>“And I will never do it again,” Malfoy declared.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” Harry said, and tilted his head back to kiss him again, feeling Malfoy smiling into his mouth.</p><p>“Now I’ve had the time of my life,” Malfoy said sing-song, pulling away and smirking at Harry.</p><p>“I hate you,” Harry laughed, and kissed him.</p><p>Before he could drag them away to their room, someone whistled and yelled out, “Finally!”</p><p>Harry sighed and rested his head against Malfoy’s shoulder, looking up at the brilliant blue of the sky. “Is that Blaise.”</p><p>“Of course that’s Blaise,” Malfoy said, and then, faintly, “and all of our year, as well as Luna and Ginevra, apparently.”</p><p>Harry squinted down and saw them: Ginny riding on Blaise’s back, Neville and Justin and Susan looking a bit embarrassed, Seamus cat-calling at them with his arms around Dean, Luna clapping vaguely, Ron and Hermione looking pleased for him as well as averting their eyes, Daphne and the Patil twins with sunhats to cover their hair from the sun, Terry and Lisa and Anthony holding brooms. They were all holding brooms, actually, except for Daphne, Parvati, Justin, and Hermione.</p><p>“If you’re done making out, want to come down and play a game of Quidditch with us?” Ginny called out.</p><p>“Oh, fuck off,” Harry called back, laughing. He looked at Malfoy and his smile faded. “Are you alright that they...know?”</p><p>“Of course I’m alright, you idiot,” Malfoy said, and grasped for his hand, ignoring Blaise and Daphne’s laughter. “We have terrible friends.”</p><p>“We do,” Harry agreed, smiling because Malfoy had said <em>we</em>. “I bet I’ll beat you again.”</p><p>“The <em>arrogance</em>,” Malfoy remarked to no one in particular.</p><p>“Scared?” Harry said.</p><p>“You <em>wish</em>,” Malfoy said.</p><p>Harry traced the lines of Malfoy’s palm and grinned back.</p><p>“Race you to the pitch,” Malfoy said, and he leaped up to run down the stands before he had finished speaking because he was a rotten cheater.</p><p>Harry followed him down to where the rest of their year was chattering and laughing. Ron and Hermione, mercifully, didn’t say they’d told him so, but smiled instead. He let everyone make the teams with his arms around Malfoy’s neck, while Ginny pretended to gag and Daphne made fun of them. The only thing he was firm on was that he and Malfoy be Seekers.</p><p>Hermione, Parvati, Daphne, and Justin sat at the edge of the pitch, Justin and Parvati commentating while Hermione and Daphne served as referees, though Daphne was mostly braiding Parvati’s hair.</p><p>And Harry soared up into the air with Malfoy just behind him, a stray breeze lifting Malfoy’s hair and the sun casting a gold light on his face.</p><p>“Pay attention, Potter,” Malfoy said, grinning at him, “I don’t want to win just because you’re distracted by my beauty.”</p><p>“I’ve already won,” Harry said, and meant it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you so much for reading! comments and kudos are really wonderful. please take the time to do what you can for the yemen crisis and black lives matter, whether that’s donating or education yourself and others or signing petitions or making calls. <a href="https://currentinfo.carrd.co">here</a> is a link with kind of everything going on, and if you want anything more specific or want to tell me something, you can find me on tumblr @bisexualhaz. hope ur all staying safe &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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